The Key and the Mask
by Lyla Calm
Summary: When Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger are assigned as partners in Potions class, Hermione puts Draco in the hospital wing-and Dumbledore's finally had enough. To teach them to get along, he locks them in the Room of Requirement...for an entire weekend.
1. Dumbledore's Meeting

Hermione Granger ran out of the girls' dormitory, out of breath. Her face red, she grabbed her schoolbag from the foot of an overstuffed armchair and raced out of the common room.

She was late for her first class of the day, which was double Potions with the Slytherins. _Five minutes late,_ she told herself. _And Snape is going to take away all the House points I earned yesterday._ She was running so fast and so hard that she ran into someone as she rounded a corner.

"Watch it, Mudblood!" Draco Malfoy hissed, shoving her out of his way. She made to keep running, but he grabbed her wrist. His lip curled into a sneer. "Late for class?"

"Not unlike _you,_" she spat, wrenching her arm free of his grasp. She smirked at the panicked look on his face. He'd forgotten about Potions. "See you in class," she said, smiling sweetly.

"Miss Granger," Snape drawled in a bored tone, watching Hermione fall into her seat several minutes later. "Mmm, ten minutes late. And that'll be ten points from Gryffindor."

There was a collective groan from the left side of the room. Ron gave Hermione a dark look before returning to the textbook in front of him. Harry leaned towards Hermione as Snape turned to his desk. "Are you alright?"

Hermione nodded with a smile and whispered, "I'm fine, Harry. Just a little tired."

"Not only do we have the nerve to show up late for class," Snape said in an annoyed whisper, "but we have the gall to ignore the directions given to us. Hmm. That'll be another ten points from Gryffindor."

The Slytherins all gave Hermione a thumbs-up. Snape turned his attention back to the class.

"Now. Judging by the incompetency I've seen this week from..._certain_ houses," he said, pointedly glancing at the Gryffindors. "We'll be mixing things up today. I'm going to divide you all into groups of two, and you have until the end of the second period to make a Fulton Potion."

Ron looked bewildered. "What the bloody hell is a Fulton Potion?" he whispered to Hermione, but she ignored him.

"The pairs are as follows: Weasley and Zabini, Potter and Goyle, Brown and Parkinson, Granger and Malfoy..."

Hermione glanced at Malfoy and realized too late that she must've had a look of horror on her face by the way he was smirking. He smoothly gathered up his books and joined her at one of the small tables near the back of the room. "Long time, no see, Mudblood," he said quietly as Hermione began adding objects to their cauldron. He sat down in a chair and leaned back. "I'll just let you take this one," he told her, yawning. Snape's eyes flickered in the direction of their table, but he said nothing as Hermione continued adding ingredients to the cauldron.

Hermione remained silent throughout the first period, but when she realized that she still had an hour left to work on the potion and that she was getting no help from Malfoy, she spun around to face him. "Are you going to help me?"

He sneered. "Are you going to make me?"

She made a face at him, then turned around to find Snape peering into her cauldron. "Mr. Malfoy, I can sympathize with your desire to dissociate with Miss Granger, but I must insist that you help with the project. We don't want Miss Granger to get all the glory, now, do we?" He cautiously sniffed the potion and walked away without a word--a sign Hermione recognized as an indication that she had done well. _If I'd left _him_ to make the potion, I would've received detentions for a week AND lost points,_ she thought to herself as Malfoy took a position beside her.

"So, Mudblood, what do I do?"

"Go jump off a bridge," she replied simply, pounding a Devil's Snare seed into a purple liquid.

Malfoy grabbed the book from her and began to read. "As much as I loathe the idea of being civil to you, I don't have a choice. So deal with it."

Hermione squirted some of the purple liquid in his direction, hitting him right in the eye.

"Miss Granger!" Snape descended on them like a buzzard. "Devil's Snare seed, is it?" He moved to Draco's side of the table and examined the boy's eye. It was now turning a bright shade of orange.

"Potter!" Snape spat, grabbing Hermione roughly by the arm. "Kindly escort Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing. And as for you, Miss Granger," he said sickeningly. "_You_ can assist Mr. Goyle with _his_ potion. And detention, every night next week." Hermione nodded and walked over to Goyle, who was waving his hands desperately over his potion, which was smoking.

"Sir--"

"Yes?"

Hermione's eyes widened and she whispered, "Never mind." She realized that she wouldn't be here for detention next week--no one would. It was the last week of term, and on Monday they would all return home on the Hogwarts Express. But if Snape didn't remember, who was she to remind him? She smiled to herself as she waved her wand over Goyle's potion.

* * * * * *

"'E din't ca' tha'?"

"Sorry?"

Ron swallowed thickly. "He didn't catch that?"

The Golden Trio sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall at lunchtime, discussing what had taken place during Potions that morning. "I guess not. He didn't call me back or anything."

"Well, maybe he'll forget he even assigned the detention and let you go."

Ginny choked on her steak-and-kidney pie. "This is Snape we're talking about. Do you really think he's going to forget he assigned detention to a student? And a Gryffindor, no less."

Hermione sighed and leaned on her fist as she glanced out the window.

"Hmm, that's funny, post came this morning," Ron commented, and Hermione saw Errol swoop down over the table just in time for her to catch a letter he held in his beak.

"It must be for me," Ron told her, reaching for the envelope. But on the front, in plain black lettering, were the words "Hermione Granger."

Hermione ripped open the letter and read the message several times.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_ Your presence is requested tonight in the Room of Requirement for an important meeting. The meeting will commence just before dinner in the Great Hall, so please, do not be late. _

_ Sincerely,_

_ Professor Albus Dumbledore_

Ron and Harry, who had been reading the letter over Hermione's shoulder, now turned to look at her, their mouths gaping open.

"Really!" Hermione said, shoving the letter into her robes. "What's the matter with you two?"

"Since when does Dumbledore hold meetings in the Room of Requirement?" Harry asked incredulously. "And why only you?"

Hermione shrugged and looked around. It was true; no one else had received the letter—

Hermione grabbed Ron's arm. Another owl was flying away from the Slytherin table, but none of them could see who had received the letter.

"Could be a coincidence," Ron said nonchalantly, but Hermione began to worry. Just her, and a Slytherin. That was a recipe for disaster. What was Dumbledore planning?

Ginny broke the silence that had settled over them. "I'm really going to miss you all next year." She looked at Harry, who quickly grabbed her hand and held it.

"We'll write every day," Harry assured her. "We're going to miss you too."

They looked at each other with such longing that Hermione and Ron blushed and turned away.

"Herbology's after lunch," Neville told them, leaning in and breaking Harry and Ginny out of their reverie. "And then Care of Magical Creatures." He took a list out of his schoolbag. "And our last class of the day is History of Magic."

Professor Sprout had a surprise for the Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs during the lesson that afternoon: They would be planting their own small versions of the Whomping Willow.

"Can we keep them in the school?" Lavendar Brown asked eagerly, gazing at the silver seeds.

Professor Sprout laughed. "If it was the middle of the year, I'd say, that's fine. But since today is the last day of term, we're going to plant them and keep them out here for the first years to study in the fall."

* * * * * *

"No homework. How much better can this day get?" Ron asked his friends as they made their way towards Hagrid's cabin. Hermione was checking off various essays and reading assignments in her Homework Helper.

"Not much better," Hermione replied with a grin. While she would be happy to have no homework for the first time all year, she was so curious about that night's meeting that she found it difficult to enjoy the lack of homework.

The Slytherins were already waiting next to Hagrid's cabin, and they were all crowded around Malfoy.

"Of course, I knew it would be me," he was saying in an arrogant tone. "You know, I've been a prefect and very nearly made it to the position of Head Boy…" His voice trailed off as the Gryffindors approached. Everyone went silent and there was an awkward pause as Gryffindor and Slytherin stared at each other. Hermione noticed with a smirk that Malfoy's orange eye had been restored to its normal color.

"It's probably nothing of consequence," Neville said loudly. "If it was, _they_ wouldn't know about it."

Malfoy sneered. "You only wish, Longbottom."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, your brain is too small to comprehend the height of the privilege I have been given."

"Or maybe his bottom is too long," Pansy Parkinson snickered. It would have been an embarrassing situation were it not for the fact that Hagrid appeared at the door to his cabin.

"Righ', you're all here," he said loudly. He clapped his hands and gestured to the pumpkin patch behind his cabin. "Since today's the las' day of term, I've got a bit of a surprise fer yeh," he told them happily, beckoning them to follow him around to the back of the cabin.

On the other side of the pumpkin patch was a large metal cage filled with what looked like huge fluffy pillows.

"These," Hagrid said excitedly, "are Muffly-Binks."

"Muffly-what?" Malfoy drawled, as if he was asking a child to repeat himself.

"Muffly-Binks," Hagrid responded, apparently unaware of Malfoy's attitude. "They look harmless enough, bu' they're attracted to wood. If they get too near wood…well, we won't deal with that right now. They aren't dangerous, Mister Malfoy, if thas' what yer worried abou'." Hermione felt a surge of pride as the Gryffindors took on a Malfoy-ish sneer.

* * * * * *

History of Magic was the only class that was completely uneventful. Hermione began to sweat as the end of the period ticked nearer. She wondered whether she had done something wrong, she wondered what Dumbledore was planning, she wondered why she—and a Slytherin—were the only ones invited to this meeting.

"I'll be down to dinner after the meeting," Hermione assured Harry and Ron, who looked concerned. "And I'll tell you all about it." She gave them each a hug, then headed toward the secluded corridor on an upper floor where she knew she'd find the Room of Requirement.

_I need to attend a meeting with Dumbledore,_ she thought, walking back and forth next to the lonely stretch of wall. _I need to attend a meeting with Dumbledore_.

The door appeared, and Hermione raced to open it—but she slowed down, realizing that her hands were sweaty and her heart was racing. She took a deep breath and opened the door, calmly and slowly.

The inside was decorated with four colors: Maroon and gold on one side, and green and silver on another side. _Gryffindor and Slytherin,_ she thought to herself. _So it's true._

There were several couches in the center of the room on top of brilliantly colored carpets. Two desks sat at each end of the large room, and a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling.

"Hello?" Hermione edged farther into the room, taking off her cloak and setting it by the floor. She had chosen a simple white Muggle dress to wear for the meeting, so she was neither dressed too casual nor too fancy.

There were six rooms that led off the main room, three on each side of the wall—and naturally, Hermione decided to investigate. The rooms on the Slytherin side were decorated with green and silver paints and fabric. There was a large marble bathroom, a room that looked like it was a study, and a bedroom with the most comfortable looking bed Hermione had ever seen.

The Gryffindor side of the hall was no different—it had the same contents in each room, only with different colors.

She was startled out of her trance by the sound of a door opening. She turned to see who the newcomer was, expecting to see Dumbledore.

"Granger?"

"Malfoy?!?"

Hermione dropped her schoolbag on the floor, glaring at the man who stood before her. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? I should be asking you that," he said, turning up his nose in disgust. "Clearly, Dumbledore didn't give me the correct instructions. There's no possible way he'd make me share a meeting with such scum as you."

Hermione launched herself across the room, shoving Malfoy out of the way and wrenching open the door. "_I'm_ the one who's leaving!" she shouted, slamming the door behind her. The door melted into the wall, and she began to pace again.

_I need to find the meeting that Dumbledore wants me to attend,_ she thought. _I need to find the meeting I'm supposed to be in._ A door once again revealed itself, and she opened it—only to discover Malfoy watching the doorway intently.

"I guess _you're_ not the one who has to go," Malfoy said disdainfully. "If you don't mind, Mudblood."

Hermione ran to the Gryffindor side of the room, gathering up her school things and hurtling into her room. She slammed the door yet again and threw herself onto the bed, angered by Malfoy's words. He was mean, oh yes, he was always mean. But he'd never referred to her like she was the dirt on his shoes. She hated feeling inferior, even to Ron and Harry. They belonged in the wizarding world, they deserved to be here at Hogwarts by birthright. But what did she have? She had to prove that she was good enough, she'd always had to prove that she was just as good as the pureblood prats that stalked the corridors. They didn't have to do anything to prove that they belonged. But she? She would always have to prove her worth. And she hated it.

She heard stamping outside her door. Sitting up, she listened intently as something was thrown across the living area. She could hear bits and pieces of Malfoy's muttering: "Can't be right—the old coot must've made a mistake—not fraternizing with a Mudblood—"

"You got something you wanna share with the class?" Hermione asked roughly, opening her door to face him.

"Not with you, Mudblood," he said, his eyes boring into hers with a fierce hatred. "Let me be."

Hermione watched as he moved to the couch and put his head in his hands. "Where's the old coot?"

"What?"

"Dumbledore! Where's Dumbledore? He sent me a letter saying I was supposed to attend a meeting."

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. But I do know that I'm going to look for him."

Even as she said it, she heard a familiar sound—the turning of the doorknob. "That must be him."

She and Malfoy both moved towards the door. Hermione reached for the doorknob and turned it, but it was locked. She whirled around to find Malfoy only a few inches away.

"What did you do? It's locked!" she yelled, pointing a finger at him as if it was all his fault.

He rolled his eyes. "Like I'd purposely lock myself in a room with you, Granger."

Hermione drew her wand and smirked at the flicker of fear she saw in his eyes. "_Alohomora!_" she said loudly, pointing her wand at the door. Nothing happened. She tried again. "_Bombarda!_"

Malfoy let out a low whistle. "If you can't unlock it, no one can."

"Was that a compliment?"

"Nope," he returned, examining his fingernails. "I just don't want to have to try unlocking it." He gave his signature Malfoy smirk. Well, I guess we're stuck here, Granger. But I'm going to pretend you're not here." He went back over to the couch. Picking up his wand, he pointed to the chandelier and made tiny green flames shoot from candle to candle.

Hermione, however, was not going to give up. She glanced at the magical keyhole, moving her wand over it. Then she tried putting her eye to the keyhole—and she saw the swish of purple robes around the corner. Just before it disappeared, a dead, blackened hand swung back, revealing a golden key. _Dumbledore._


	2. Shocking Insults

**Author's Note: Hi everyone! Here's the second chapter of my newest fanfic. I really appreciate all the story alert e-mails I've been getting, but I would love it even more if you all would review and tell me what you think! Reviews are what keeps me going, so the more reviews I get, the faster I'll get chapters up here :) And I have some ideas up my sleeve to keep this fanfic from getting boring or cliché, so please, let me know what you think! Don't be afraid to let me know if you think I should change something! **

**P.S. This chapter is slightly shorter than the first chapter, but there wasn't much more I could do with it. I've got lots more planned for the future chapters though, so never fear!**

** ~Lyla**

"Malfoy!"

"Granger, could you please stop bothering me?"

"Dumbledore locked us in."

Silence. "Granger, no matter how much of his sanity he may have lost over the years, he would never be so cruel as to lock me in a room with you."

Hermione once again pressed her eye to the keyhole, wondering what Dumbledore was doing. "I wish I had the Marauder's Map," she said quietly to herself, glancing around the room. She continued waving her wand in front of the door, but to no avail.

"We're stuck," she said finally, throwing up her hands and heading for her room.

"I think we've already established that," Malfoy drawled, pointing his wand toward Hermione and causing a green flame to shoot past her head. "Stop being such a cotton-mouthed ninny-muggins."

_At least when he insults me in the corridors, I can get away,_ Hermione thought to herself. _Here, I can't go anywhere. _She turned away from Malfoy's sneering face and went to her room, falling on her bed.

Why would Dumbledore lock her and Malfoy in the Room of Requirement? Of course, there was the Devil's Snare seed incident earlier that day, but she and Malfoy had squabbles all the time. And why the last weekend of school, of all times? She could be enjoying her lack of homework with Harry and Ron, she could be laughing with Ginny and listening to her talk about how she would miss them next year…but no, she was locked in a room with Malfoy. Granted, it was large enough for each of them to have their own space, but they were locked in nonetheless.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door."Granger, dinner's ready."

"Since when do you care whether or not I eat?" She shot back, her anger at Dumbledore boiling over.

"I don't," he assured her. "Believe me, I really don't care if you eat or not. I—I just thought I'd let you know it was ready."

Hermione's head was spinning so much she fell back into the pillows on her bed. "I'll be there in a minute," she called back, careful to soak her words in disdain. She rolled over, glanced at the clock on the bedside table, and dragged herself up to leave the room.

Malfoy was standing by a chair as Hermione entered the dining room. "You didn't have to wait for me," she told him coldly. She glared at him, but there was a look of amusement on his face.

"Have a seat, Granger."

She grabbed one of the plates and pushed it to the far end of the table. Still watching Malfoy, she slowly lowered herself into the chair.

Pain like an electric shock surged through her body. She shrieked and jumped up just in time to see Malfoy doubled over with laughter.

"Yeah, Granger, I waited for you to eat. I didn't have any other choice." His face suddenly took on a serious glare.

Abruptly there was a small chuckle from somewhere under the table. Both Malfoy and Hermione jumped backward, startled.

"Purebloods. Think they know everything," said a voice.

"Who's there?" Hermione squeaked.

"Oh, and a Muggle-born as well! What would the pureblood's mommy say if she saw him now?"

Malfoy was too stunned to speak. He gripped the edge of the table and looked underneath it, but there was no one there.

"I think it's the table," Hermione whispered. "The table's talking to us."

The voice spoke again. "Not a very bright little Muggle-born, are you?"

Malfoy smirked. "An enchanted table that insults Mudbloods. I like it."

"Arrogance is dangerous, Mr. Pureblood Prat," the table informed him.

"And a table that knows who's superior. _Mr._ Pureblood Prat, thank you very much."

The table laughed again. "Mr. Pureblood Prat, or, as I understand it, the Pureblood Ferret of Hogwarts."

Hermione giggled as Malfoy's face turned purple. "I never thought I'd say this, but I agree with you. The table's a keeper!" She made to sit down again, but she remembered the shock too late. She squealed and fell off the chair. Picking herself up from the floor, she glared at Malfoy's smirking face.

"Dumbledore did this?" Hermione's vision was going blurry.

"As much as I'd love to take credit for the pain you just went through, it wasn't me."

"So, we have to sit down together?"

"Yep." Malfoy examined his fingernails again, but his eyes traveled to Hermione's waist.

"What are you looking at?"

"What d'you think I'm looking at, Mudblood? I told you, we have to sit down together. I don't want to sit down and get shocked. So…" His eyes widened as if he was talking to a developmentally-delayed child. "I'm making sure I time my seating right."

"Oh, the Pureblood likes the Muggle-born's curves. How absolutely _adorable_."

Malfoy laughed. "As if!"

"Whatever!" Hermione shouted, startling Malfoy and the table. "On the count of three, okay? One—two—three—"

Neither of them moved.

"I don't trust you," Hermione told him.

"Don't worry, the lack of trust is mutual." He smirked. "Are we going to have to perform an Unbreakable Vow to sit down and eat?"

"You two _are_ as stupid as you look. Just have a seat, for Merlin's sake."

Hermione ignored it. "One, two, three…"

They both sat down at the same time. "Finally. I'm starving." The table was covered with chicken and vegetables, and a small plate holding tarts sat in the center of the table.

Hermione took a bite of a chicken leg and watched Malfoy, not sure what to expect. He seemed to be avoiding her gaze, pretending to be absorbed in a chicken wing, but Hermione wasn't fooled. She wasn't about to break the silence, however, so she decided to play along with Malfoy's game.

As soon as he'd finished eating, Malfoy pushed back his chair as if to rise, and Hermione felt the shock again.

"Don't!" she shrieked, startling him. He sat back down and looked at his hands in his lap—he actually looked uncomfortable, a situation that Hermione would have been eager to take advantage of if it hadn't been for the pain in her stomach. The shock hadn't induced it, it was a different kind of pain. She winced and shifted her weight, trying to stay calm as she looked up and noticed Malfoy staring at her.

"I'm still seated, you can't be getting shocked," Malfoy told her simply.

"I ain't doin' nothin'," the table said solemnly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say the little Muggle-born witch is—"

"I'm not getting shocked," Hermione interrupted weakly. "It's—something else."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "Whatever, Granger. Just hurry up. I don't want to be here all night."

"I'm done anyway," Hermione returned coldly. "Ready?"

"One, two, three—" Both of them jumped to their feet and turned to their respective sides of the room. "G'night, Malfoy."

"If you could call it that, Granger."

* * * * * *

Hermione lay back into her pillows, scanning the pages of _Pygmy Puffs and Other Exotic Pets_. The bed was so comfortable, she probably would've fallen asleep if she hadn't been so worried about her stomachache. _Different than any feeling I've had before,_ she thought absentmindedly, reading the same line on the page over and over again.

She heard muttering outside her door. "Malfoy?"

The muttering didn't stop, but it got louder. Hermione closed her book and slid off the bed, tiptoed to the door, and opened it.

Malfoy was seated on the couch, bending over the table in the middle of the living room. Books, parchment, and quills were strewn about the room, and Malfoy was shaking his head so hard Hermione was surprised he didn't have a headache.

She quietly slipped into the room, being careful not to announce her presence. She was now behind Malfoy, and she could hear everything he was saying.

"Is it my fault I'm not as smart as the stupid Mudblood? How should I know what color a Myrinth Klear is?"

Hermione walked over to the table, which still had some food on it, and grabbed a tart before the table laughed. "As if the Muggle-born needs any more sweets."

Hermione smacked the table only to get her hand shocked. "Ow!" she shrieked, sucking on her blistering fingers.

She stole a glance at Malfoy, but he only glared as she took the tart and went back into her room. _He's probably wondering whether I heard what he was saying,_ Hermione thought happily. _And I did! Ha._

The muttering resumed when the door to Hermione's room closed. She couldn't hear herself think, much less read a book. Once again, she opened the door and watched him struggling with the textbook.

"Malfoy?" she whispered timidly.

He looked up. "What, Mudblood?"

She took a few steps toward the blonde-haired Slytherin and glanced at the books in front of him. "Do you need a hand?"

Malfoy stared at her in disbelief. "I don't want help from a Mudblood."

"But I know what color a Myrinth Klear is!" Hermione was in her element, she was where she could use her knowledge to help someone—even if it was Malfoy. She cautiously approached him and sat down on the couch, but he recoiled. "Just tell me what it is, Granger. I don't need a tutoring session."

"It's supposed to be a silvery-blue color. But in extreme temperature changes, it can be a reddish-gold color."

Malfoy scoffed. "Yeah, whatever." He scribbled down the answer and read the next question in the book. He looked at Hermione, but there was a look of disgust and contempt on his face. "What are the four uses of the Myrinth's juice?"

* * * * * *

Hermione retired to her room with a satisfied sigh. Malfoy had finished his homework with her help (which he had been hesitant to accept throughout the whole evening), and she was fairly certain that he would receive a high grade. But her thoughts drifted back to what Dumbledore had done. _As if assigning us homework on the last day of school wasn't enough, he actually locked me in a room with my archenemy. How could he?_

She thought about Ron and Harry. They must be worried, it was Friday night and they were probably both done with homework now. She had her books for company, but no book could substitute for the company of her two best friends.

She continued to stare at the ceiling, trying to find patterns in the carvings. _I'd better use the bathroom before I fall asleep,_ she thought to herself.

* * * * * *

Hermione sat on the floor of her bathroom, staring at the faint symbol in her hands. Her head had been swimming earlier, but it was nothing to what she was feeling now. She felt her head hit the floor with a thud, and she blacked out—but not before registering what this meant.

She was pregnant.


	3. Another Secret

**Author's Note: What did ya think of the last chapter? Here's chapter 3, I made it extra long to make up for the last chapter, which was short by about a thousand words--Ooohhh, this story is going to be taking some interesting turns, so stay tuned!! Lol. Don't forget to review!! *Goes off to start chapter 4* Enjoy!**

"Hermione, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

But she didn't hear what his reply was, because his face dissolved into nothingness. She saw a hospital room filled with gift bags, and then darkness closed in. What was happening?

"Where am I?" Hermione turned to ask the doctor, but he grabbed her arm and threw her to the ground.

"Let me go!"

"Shut up, Granger, I'm not doing anything."

Hermione rubbed her eyes and sat up. She was on the couch in a living room…and then she remembered where she was.

"What happened to me?"

Malfoy was sitting on an armchair across from the couch, looking over the top of his book as if he was staring at a cockroach. "You fainted." He smirked. "Following in Potter's footsteps after all, are you?"

She looked around. "Did you see anything on the floor next to me?"

If Malfoy had been amused before, it was nothing to how he looked now. "You mean that pregnancy test? The one that was _positive?_"

Hermione was too shocked to glare at him. In the few seconds in the bathroom before she blacked out, she remembered thinking one thing: _I can't tell anyone._ Anyone from Hogwarts, that is. Her parents would find out and might even be happy for her…but Harry and Ron couldn't find out.

"So you went and got yourself pregnant."

"Stop talking about me like I'm a cow," Hermione spat, some of her fiery spirit coming back.

"But you are," Malfoy informed her, flashing his smirk for the tenth time that night. "So. Who's the father?"

Hermione could feel her face going red, so she ran a hand through her hair and pretended to look tired.

Malfoy snickered. "You don't know who it is, do you?"

Hermione jumped up from the couch and reached over to smack Malfoy, but he grabbed her wrist with another smirk.

"Of course I know who it is!" she screamed, tears forming in her eyes. She didn't want to let them fall, not while Malfoy was there, but she had no choice.

"Seriously, Mudblood, who's the father?"

Malfoy still held a tight grip on her wrist, and Hermione couldn't do anything about it. Tears fell from her eyes, and she tried to wipe them away with her other arm. She was pregnant, and the only person who knew about it was selfish, insensitive Malfoy.

"Hmmm…okay, I guess we can play twenty questions," Malfoy said finally, letting go of her arm and shoving her at the same time. "Is it…Potter?"

Hermione shook her head miserably, curling into a ball on the couch across from Malfoy.

"Hmm…well then, is it Longbottom?"

Once again, she shook her head. It didn't matter to her that Malfoy was getting closer to the answer. What could he do? He already knew she was pregnant.

"Well, then it must be Weasel," he said disdainfully.

When Hermione didn't contradict him, his eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding. Weasel got you pregnant?" He laughed. "I shouldn't be surprised. A Mudblood and a blood traitor. Perfect match."

"Just stop it!" Hermione screamed, sobbing into the back of the couch. "I don't need you reminding me that it was a mistake!"

Malfoy snorted. "So you admit it was a mistake?"

Hermione turned to look at him, her face red and tear-stained. For a second, she thought she saw a flicker of pity in the boy's eyes—_I must've imagined it,_ she thought as she wiped her face with her hand. "I didn't realize it until afterward," she said thickly, running a hand through her hair again. "It was supposed to be a one-time thing, I mean, we were just friends. But now, he's not just my friend, but he's the father of my child."

Malfoy smiled—it almost looked like a genuine smile, but it wasn't. He pretended to wipe away a tear. "That was beautiful, Granger."

Hermione picked up a pillow and threw it at him, hitting him square in the side of the face. "Just shut up, Malfoy, You're such a twat."

Malfoy smirked. "So, when did it happen?"

Hermione began to massage her temples. "Last month." She shook her head again. "I can't tell him."

"You're going to have to tell him eventually," Malfoy drawled.

"I can't!"

"Right. And what if the baby has, oh, I dunno…red hair? Then what are you going to do?"

Hermione gazed at the table between them, thinking. She would graduate from Hogwarts, and she could just disappear. She'd never have to see Harry or Ron again.

She couldn't believe she'd actually considered that option. Of course she'd want to see Harry and Ron again. They'd been best friends since their first year at Hogwarts. But if Ron discovered she was pregnant, he'd know who the father was.

"Well, I'm a bit tired," Malfoy said loudly, interrupting Hermione's thoughts. "So, if you don't mind, I think I'll go to bed." He stood up and walked swiftly to the door, his robes billowing behind him. "Oh, and I really think you should tell Weasel, Mudblood. That baby's going to need a father." He disappeared into his room, leaving a very confused and exhausted Hermione sitting on the couch, alone with her thoughts once again.

* * * * * *

Hermione awoke the next morning feeling relieved that term had finally ended. She would be on the Hogwarts Express with Harry and Ron in two days, and they would be going home. No schoolwork, no professors…and no Hogwarts, ever again. The next time they would see Platform Nine and Three Quarters would be when their children attended Hogwarts. Harry, Ron, and Hermione would take one last trip on the old red engine, and then it would be nothing but a memory.

She sat up in her bed and stretched, and then just as suddenly she felt the urge to vomit. _Oh crap,_ she thought miserably as she rushed into her bathroom.

Hermione wiped her mouth on a tissue and returned to her bedroom, where she sat on the edge of her bed, thinking about how hungry she was. She didn't hear anything outside the door; she glanced at the clock. 8:30. Breakfast would be over in half an hour.

She reached for the door handle just as Malfoy shouted, "Granger! Breakfast!" She opened the door to find Malfoy in the same position he'd been in last night at dinner. He was dressed and ready for the day…waiting for her to eat with him.

"Did the Muggle-born tell the Pureblood her little secret?" The table asked as Hermione and Malfoy sat down.

"Yes," Hermione answered, reaching for a biscuit. All her favorite things to eat for breakfast were right here.

"So, when are you due?" Malfoy drawled in a boring tone, but Hermione could hear a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"January 31, next year."

"Nice," Malfoy said sarcastically, taking a spoonful of porridge.

They finished eating in silence. Hermione jumped up from the table and slipped back into her room, where she went into her bathroom to get changed. If Malfoy thought she was going to spend the day in her room, he was wrong.

Hermione pulled on a tank top as she opened her door to find Malfoy standing in front of the fireplace in the living room. He was tossing something into the fire…no, it couldn't be. Her eyes were deceiving her.

"No!" she screamed, lunging at him from behind the couch. "You can't do that!"

Malfoy jumped. His tone was surprisingly calm for someone who had just been screamed at. "It's the end of term, you ignorant clot. I can throw them into the fire if I want to." He picked up another book from the pile on the floor and held it up tantalizingly before her malignant expression.

"Draco Malfoy! You can't burn books!" Hermione walked up to the pile of books, selected a particularly heavy one, and smacked him as hard as she could with it.

"Mudblood!" Malfoy shouted as Hermione raced back into her room with the pile of books. "Get back here!"

Hermione dropped the books on her bed and whirled around to face Malfoy, who had his wand pointed at her neck with an equally malicious expression. "Big mistake, Mudblood. Those are my things. Now, I'm only going to ask once. Give them to me." He held out his hand, but he didn't move his wand.

"No," Hermione responded calmly, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

"Pity," Malfoy said quietly, reminding Hermione of her last encounter with Voldemort. "_Crucio!"_

Before Hermione even had a chance to register that Malfoy had just used an Unforgivable Curse on her, she was on the floor, writhing in pain. She felt as though a thousand knives were stabbing at her skin on all sides. Her eyes filled with tears and she gave Malfoy a look of loathing before she squeezed them shut.

She clutched at her stomach, an action which caught Malfoy so off guard that he fell backward, releasing the curse and hitting his head on the back of a small end table in the living room.

Panting and exhausted, Hermione slowly picked herself up from the floor. The Cruciatus Curse. So Malfoy really was a Death Eater. But what had made him release the spell?

She heard him curse under his breath as he got up from where he was on the floor. "How…could…you?" Hermione panted, leaning against the bed for support. He began to move toward her, but she lunged across the bed for her wand and pointed it in his direction. "Don't come any closer!" she ordered, eyes wide with shock. He shook his head as if to clear it, then glanced at her stomach.

"I'm…sorry," he muttered, but she wasn't ready to believe him.

"Why?" she growled through clenched teeth. "Why would you do that to me? And why would you apologize? Who are you, Draco Malfoy?"

Malfoy's face turned red as he entered the room again. He grabbed Hermione's wrist and sat on the other side of her bed. "You're such a stupid girl, you make me so angry. Why can't you just let me do things my way?"

Hermione closed her eyes. "Let go of my wrist," she said quietly.

When he obliged, she glared at him. "I'm not going to let you burn those books, Malfoy. I don't care if you hate this school, I don't care if you hate the homework we've been given all year. But those books are important to me. They're part of who I am. I can't believe you would use an Unforgivable Curse on me like that. You'd think I was trying to hurt you or something."

"Are you alright now?" Malfoy asked.

Hermione stared at him. "You Crucio me and then ask if I'm _alright?_"

The boy sneered at her. "I'm not worried about you, Mudblood, believe me. But your baby hasn't done anything to me. I'm not going to make him pay for your idiocy. I forgot you were pregnant, otherwise I wouldn't have done that."

"Oh, I see," Hermione said coldly. "If I wasn't pregnant, you wouldn't be apologizing right now? Is that it? Is the baby the only thing keeping you from using the Cruciatus Curse on me? Is the baby the only thing keeping you from killing me, Draco Malfoy?"

Malfoy stared at her. If she hadn't been carrying a child, he probably wouldn't have stopped the curse. What kind of a person did that to another human being?

_A Death Eater, you scum,_ said a voice in his brain.

_Scum, exactly. A person who would purposely cause that kind of pain to someone else is scum._

The boy shook his head and left the room without another word. Hermione watched as he left, wondering what was going through his brain.

What she didn't know was that Malfoy was starting to feel the very first inkling of shame at how he had treated everyone—his friends, his enemies, his schoolmates. Hermione didn't deserve to be Crucio'd because she took his books; a simple Summoning charm would've gotten them back. And her unborn child—the Cruciatus Curse was not supposed to be used on pregnant women. He knew that, he'd seen his father use the curse on pregnant witches before. Some of them lost their babies, some didn't…but that wasn't what mattered. If the baby was the only thing preventing him from torturing Hermione…then he was no better than his father. No better than Voldemort.

Somewhere inside his head, a voice reminded him, _Voldemort and Lucius would've killed Hermione whether or not she was pregnant._

But then there was that contradiction again. _Oh right. So the only difference between Draco and Voldemort is the baby. Draco would've spared the baby and killed the mother, and Voldemort would've finished off both. Big difference._

For many years, Draco had dreamed of being like his father. Being a respected Death Eater and loyal subject of Voldemort. But what did that entail? Killing and torturing Mudbloods and Half-bloods. How could anyone want that kind of a life? Draco had seen what the other side was like—the Light, that is. He'd seen what Potter and Granger and Weasley were like. He could see that there was something different there, something…better. But joining the Light would mean admitting to the Golden Trio that he was weak, that he had done something wrong. Draco Malfoy would _never_ stoop that low.

In her room, Hermione glanced at the clock: it was only 10:50. This was going to be a long day. Would it be safe to leave her room? Would Malfoy try to Crucio her again? She couldn't stay in her room for the whole day. And there was always the chance that Dumbledore might let them out. What had he told Ron and Harry? Did he even tell them he knew where Hermione was?

She quietly opened the door to her room and slipped into the living room, glancing around. Malfoy was clearly in his room, and she wasn't about to disturb him. She went into the small study next to her bedroom.

Although it was small, there were bookshelves lining the walls, and a desk sat facing one end of the room. There were several pieces of parchment, a quill, and an inkwell.

"_Heaven,_" Hermione breathed as she dropped into a chair in front of the bookshelves. There were books on all of her favorite subjects: Muggle Studies, Arithmancy, Herbology…there was even a small collection of Muggle books.

Hermione found a copy of her favorite Muggle fairytale, _Cinderella,_ on one of the bookshelves. She curled up in the chair and began to read.

Meanwhile, Malfoy was still wrestling with his thoughts. Truth be told, he was taken aback by Hermione's attitude. His actions were always unchallenged, unquestioned. Squabbles in the hallways at school didn't count—but when his actions were challenged where it really counted, where he could do whatever he wanted—that was unfamiliar territory to him. It occurred to him that Hermione was the only student in the entire school whose will matched his own. He laughed at the thought, remembering the time back in their third year when Hermione had punched him in the face, despite Harry's and Ron's protests.

Hermione was so absorbed in her book that she jumped when she heard a knock on the study door.

"Granger?"

She snapped the book shut. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Always expecting the worst of me, aren't you?" The boy returned, opening the door.

"Like I don't have a reason to," Hermione said roughly, hugging the book to her chest. As nonchalantly as she could, she moved her hand towards her pocket, making sure her wand was there if she needed it.

"I thought you should know that as much as I don't like you, I wouldn't purposely try to hurt you."

Hermione laughed. "Oh, really? Then what do you call the Cruciatus Curse?"

Malfoy sneered at her, trying not to show that he was experiencing several emotions at once. "I shouldn't have done it. That's all I'm saying. I'm not apologizing, I'm just saying that I won't hurt you or the baby again." He left the room without another word.

"Will you stop doing that?" Hermione called.

The footsteps came to a halt. "Stop doing what?"

"Saying something weird, and then walking away."

Malfoy reentered the room and sat on a chair across from Hermione. "That's your deal if you think it's weird. I'm just saying you don't have to walk around with your wand out, afraid that I'm going to attack you." His eyes slid to the pockets of her jeans. "And don't think I didn't catch that casual hand movement toward your wand, Granger."

Hermione blushed and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"So, what's that book?"

"Cinderella," Hermione answered dreamily. "It's my favorite fairytale."

"Cinder-who?" Malfoy asked, snorting loudly. "I've never heard of it."

"Of course you haven't, you git," she informed him, standing up to leave the room and slapping him with the book on her way out. "It's a Muggle fairytale."

As Hermione passed the living room, she glanced at the clock on the mantle and realized she'd been reading longer than she thought.

"I guess we should eat," she said to Malfoy, who had followed her out of the study.

The two sat down at the table as platters of beef and vegetables and rolls covered it.

Hermione hungrily took a bite of her roll, but her appetite was not to last.

"The Muggle-born mother is back, I see. Have you told the Pureblood your little secret?"

"Yes, I have, and you asked me that this morning," she replied quietly.

"Oh, but I didn't," the table said slyly. "I'm referring to your other secret. The one you hoped _no one_ would find out."

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face as Malfoy looked at her with his eyebrows raised.

"What kind of table is this? What is it even talking about?" Hermione ran a hand through her hair and looked down at her plate, but the table was persistent.

"The Pureblood wants to know," the table told her smoothly. "You should really be more selective in the places you choose to think aloud. You're really not the brightest witch of your age, are you?"

Malfoy continued to stare at Hermione. "Granger? What secret is it talking about?"


	4. The Task

**Author's Note: Most of, if not all of my chapters will end in cliffhangers, just so ya know :) I love keeping people in suspense. So then they review and tell me what they think will happen, or what they want to happen, and then I have motivation to write and update again. See how it works? Haha lol :D Hope you enjoy this next chapter. Do you all like the way things are developing? If you have any suggestions or just want to tell me what you think of the story, PLEASE review. I can't emphasize enough how much reviews mean to me. So, here's chapter 4. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far--let me know what you think of this next chapter! **

**To those of you who reviewed, I offered a sneak peek about the title of chapter 4. However, the events that would've taken place in the chapter with that title were moving things too quickly, so the secret title will be for a later chapter. Here's "The Task", and a special thanks to mogget861 for your great suggestions—this chapter wouldn't have been possible without your help! ~Lyla**

"Mudblood! What secret?"

Hermione stared at her plate, willing Malfoy to drop the subject.

"Granger, if you don't tell me, I'm going to shock you." He made a motion as if to stand up, giving Hermione a wicked grin. "Now, tell me."

Hermione stood up, causing the table to shock Malfoy instead. "I'm not telling," she told him as she watched him pick himself up from the floor. She ran into the living room this time and pulled out her wand, feeling slightly threatened by the look Malfoy had given her.

"Granger! What's the secret?"

"Don't come any closer!"

Malfoy climbed over the couch and stood in front of her. "Granger, why won't you tell me?"

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. She didn't want to discuss what she had been thinking about last night, what Ron had told her. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because it's my job to know things I'm not supposed to know," he said smartly. But his face fell as he watched her cover her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook with sobs, and she collapsed onto the couch.

"It can't be that bad," Malfoy said uncertainly. "Really, what is it?"

"Remember when you told me I should tell Ron?"

"Of course. But that was yesterday, and you haven't talked to him since then."

Hermione glared at him through her tears. "I know that," she said darkly. "But I talked to him after...after it happened."

"Oh, you did? How cute," Malfoy commented, examining his fingernails again. "Sure way to lose a guy--talk about what happens _after_ you do it."

"I asked him where he saw our relationship, and he acted like being around me was awkward. I finally forced him to face me and tell me the truth, and he said he really didn't want our relationship to be anything more than just friends."

Malfoy's face looked ashen, but he didn't say anything, so she continued.

"I asked him what he wanted to do with his life, and he said...he said..." Sobs overtook her and she couldn't finish what she was saying.

"Granger—"

"He doesn't care about me!" Hermione sobbed, scraping the couch with her nails. "He doesn't want children!"

"He doesn't even know you're pregnant!"

"You weren't there," Hermione cried miserably. "Ron doesn't care about me, he doesn't even like me. I'm just Harry Potter's other best friend."

For the first time all evening, Malfoy was speechless. He couldn't look at Hermione. "That was the secret?"

"Sorry to disappoint," Hermione whispered, tears still falling from her eyes.

"I didn't mean it like that," Malfoy growled, getting frustrated again. "Whatever, Granger." He returned to the table, which had replaced the beef and vegetables with puddings and tarts.

Hermione let her tears soak the back of the couch. She was going to have a baby, and the father didn't even want it. He didn't even want _her._ She felt alone in the world—like Malfoy did.

It was only mid-afternoon, and Hermione felt as though she could sleep for hours. She was tired, disappointed, and apprehensive at the same time. Malfoy knew what had been nagging at her since last night. He had seen her break down and cry, he knew how insecure she was. Malfoy had seen right through the wall she had worked so hard to build up.

When Hermione had regained her composure, Malfoy moved to the same armchair he had occupied the night before and began to read a book. Hermione just gazed at the wall, thinking about Ron, about her mistake, about the baby.

The afternoon dragged on, passing slowly, minute by minute. By dinnertime, a smile had started at the corners of Hermione's mouth. Whether or not Ron cared about her, she knew that she had friends who did. Harry and Ginny cared about her. Luna and Neville cared about her. She would always have somewhere to turn, even without Ron.

When the mantle clock struck 6:00, both Hermione and Malfoy made their way to the table.

"Mmm, so the Muggle-born has told the Pureblood her _other_ secret. Very good," the table said sarcastically. "The Muggle-born is pregnant by a boy who doesn't want the baby. How sad!"

Hermione smacked the table again, and this time she didn't get shocked.

"Pity, really. I can't hurt you as long as the stupid Pureblood prat is here."

Malfoy's eyes widened. "What?"

"Oops, I've said too much. Your presence protects the Muggle-born from getting shocked. She can do anything she wants to me as long as you're sitting there."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "She can do whatever she wants to you. I really don't care. But I have to say," he said, a smile playing on his lips. "If she decided to set fire to you, I'd be nothing short of sympathetic toward her."

"Oooohh, God forbid," the table shot back, and Hermione could swear the platters shifted slightly.

Hermione smiled to herself as Malfoy and the table continued to argue. By the time she was finished eating, Malfoy had barely touched his food.

"Are you going to be finished anytime soon?" Hermione asked, glancing at Malfoy's full plate.

"I'll take it to my room," Malfoy said absentmindedly. He and Hermione stood up at the same time. They moved toward each other as Malfoy ran a hand through his hair and let his hand fall at the same time Hermione walked past him—and his hand lightly brushed her bare arm.

The contact sent chills down Hermione's back. Malfoy hadn't purposely touched her, but there was something gentle about the way his skin touched hers. Hermione shook her head and returned to her room.

She began to rummage through her schoolbag, searching for something to do. There were still two days left before the end of term, and she wasn't going to sit around. If Dumbledore didn't let them out until Monday, they would both be bored out of their minds. Well, one of them would. She wasn't going to waste the opportunity to get some things done. _I'll write a letter to Viktor Krum,_ Hermione thought to herself, tucking her bag underneath her bed.

She opened the door and turned into the study, smiling at the sight of the fresh parchment and ink. She sat down and started the letter.

_Dear Viktor,_

She chewed on the end of the quill, wondering what to write next. So much had been going on in her life, so much had changed since her last letter, but she wasn't quite sure being locked in a room with Malfoy was something he'd like to hear about. She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, feeling tired and then realizing with a jolt that feeling tired was part of being pregnant, something she would need to get used to.

She stepped toward a glowing light. It was a shimmering silver color, almost as if it was liquid. It was so beautiful, she reached out to touch it…but it disappeared. And in its place stood Dumbledore. _Where am I? _she thought to herself. But seeing Dumbledore again made her anger return.

"Are you going to tell me why?"

Dumbledore smiled pleasantly at her over his half-moon spectacles. "Why what, Miss Granger?"

"Why have you locked me in the Room of Requirement with Malfoy? Why haven't you let us out yet? Why have you let Malfoy get away with attacking me?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Now is not the time to discuss those questions. The time will come soon, very soon. But the reason I am here is to remind you of your task."

"My task?"

"Do you remember the discussion we had in my office several weeks ago, Miss Granger?"

Hermione nodded, not sure how this was relevant to her current situation with Malfoy.

"Did it occur to you that I may have had more than one reason for locking you in the Room of Requirement with Mr. Malfoy?"

Hermione felt her mouth fall open. "You mean—"

"Miss Granger, we cannot afford to lose much more time. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley have worked hard, in your absence, to find the other Horcruxes."

"I've only been gone for a day."

Dumbledore ignored her and continued, "The final piece of Voldemort's soul is protected with intense magic—so dangerous that even I cannot retrieve it." Hermione was silent, and slowly Dumbledore dissolved into the air.

She sat up with a start, realizing she'd been asleep. Of course! The task Dumbledore had given her! Her mind went back to the meeting in his office only a few days previously.

"_Take a seat, Miss Granger," Dumbledore told her, motioning to the chair across from him__._

"_Did I do something wrong, Professor?"_

_Dumbledore chuckled. "Goodness, no. In fact, I've called you here this evening to speak with you about Harry Potter's mission."_

"_You mean, the Horcruxes?"_

"_Yes," Dumbledore replied. "There are four left: We've destroyed the ring and the diary, but there still remains Nagini the Snake, Hufflepuff's Cup, Ravenclaw's Diadem, and one other—but we don't know the location of the final Horcrux yet."_

"_Yes, sir," Hermione agreed respectfully. "But what does this have to do with me?"_

"_The books you, shall we say, discovered last year do not accurately describe every instance of Horcrux creation."_

"_What do you mean?"_

_Dumbledore moved to the bookshelf behind his desk and pulled a black leather-bound book onto the desk. "This, Miss Granger, is a book filled with nearly every secret to Horcrux creation. And it so happens that I know for a fact that Tom Riddle had access to this book in his sixth year. I asked Professor Dippet on several occasions to have the book removed from student access, but he was never one to think ill of someone. He trusted nearly all of the students—especially Tom Riddle and those who were in Tom's good books."_

_Hermione nodded, glancing at the huge book on the desk. Everything she had read about Horcruxes thus far was violently disturbing, and she wondered what else there could possibly be for her to know about them._

_Dumbledore opened the book and flipped through the table of contents as if he was looking through a restaurant menu. He came to the page he was looking for and began to read._

"'_The piece of one's soul is hidden within an object. But if the object were not enough, the wizard may select to conceal it using a dangerously powerful form of magic.'"_

_Hermione's mouth had gone dry. "What does that mean, exactly, Professor?"_

_Dumbledore closed the book. "This is merely guesswork on my part, you understand," he said slowly. "I believe Voldemort may have used this dangerous form of magic to make his final Horcrux._

"_Shouldn't you be telling Harry this? No offense, professor, but I still don't see what this has to do with me."_

_Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Who Summoned these books from this very office last year? Who was the only one who thought to look for information about Horcruxes in books?"_

_Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Dumbledore hadn't finished. "Miss Granger, while Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter may mean well, they don't have the understanding that you have gained through your love of books. Without this tiny, vital clue, we may never find the final Horcrux__.__"_

Dangerously powerful magic…four more Horcruxes to destroy…the task Dumbledore had given her…the ideas swam through her head as she sat at the desk, which was partially covered with ink droplets since Hermione had fallen asleep. Her task was to discover the secret to the powerful magic Voldemort had most likely used to protect his final Horcrux.

Hermione jumped up from her chair and ran to the bookshelves, where she began pulling heavy volumes onto the chairs and flipping through the pages. Another reason. There had to be another reason for Dumbledore's actions. There had to be a clue in the Room of Requirement, somewhere.

Her research was interrupted by a small thud as something was dropped onto the desk, causing the inkwell to tip over.

"Cinderella," Malfoy said loudly, and Hermione looked at him in surprise.

"What about it?"

"It's…interesting," he said finally, pushing all the books off the chair and taking a seat. "But that 'bippety-boppety-boo' stuff, is that what Muggles call magic?"

"Yes, in fact, it is," Hermione informed him, not at all liking his tone.

"And, the glass slipper—"

"Yes, that's the Muggle idea of a romantic theme." Hermione snapped the book shut and rolled her eyes. Malfoy was smirking again.

"Muggles are pathetic excuses for human beings," he said after a moment. He wasn't even sure if he really meant it, but he loved provoking her.

"My parents are Muggles, Draco Malfoy. My father doesn't even know what a Felix Felicis potion is, but he's twice the man you'll ever be!" She stormed out of the study—straight across the room to the Slytherin side of the room—and cautiously entered Malfoy's study.

_If I know Dumbledore, he'll have made it so we have to work together to figure this out. Even if my only challenge in this task will be to endure Malfoy's insults, it'll be worth it. His master's downfall will be the result. _These thoughts were comforting to Hermione as she selected a huge encyclopedia from the shelf and checked the index for Horcrux references.

_What are the odds that the first book I take from the shelf is an encyclopedia completely about Horcruxes?_ Hermione wondered as she examined the table of contents.

_How to make a Horcrux, How to destroy a Horcrux, How to restore your soul after creating a Horcrux…Darkest Secrets of the Horcrux._ Hermione flipped to page 226 and began to read from the top paragraph.

_**Horcruxes are among the most evil forms of dark magic. Within this category, there are many degrees of protection and defense, some more difficult to perform than others.**_

_**This section will discuss two of the most common methods of Horcrux protection, the first of which involves the sacrifice of blood. Many times, the one whose soul resides within the Horcrux will conceal the Horcrux using a physical, solid barrier, such as a wall. The blood protection requires the shedding of blood on the barrier to reveal the Horcrux.**_

_**The second method of Horcrux protection, although less common, is much more effective in protecting the Horcrux. The wizard whose soul resides within the Horcrux may elect to put a curse on the Horcrux, enabling no one to retrieve it unless accompanied by an ally, servant, or friend of the mentioned wizard.**_

It was as if a light went on in Hermione's head. _The Horcrux is here, in the Room of Requirement,_ she said to herself. _An ally, servant, or friend of the mentioned wizard…_It hit her like a ton of bricks. _Draco Malfoy has to help me get the final Horcrux._

**Author's Note: Y'all may have noticed that there was no mention of the locket during Dumbledore's discussion with Hermione. That's because the locket never existed—the final Horcrux is something different. Or it might actually be the locket, I haven't figured out which it'll be :) Don't forget to review!!**__


	5. Wall of Glass

**A/N: I know it's been a while since I updated this story—I've been having severe writer's block, but I finally finished it and can't wait to start Chapter 6. So here's "Wall of Glass", Chapter 5. :D**

**Wall of Glass**

Hermione skimmed through the remainder of the study's books, but she didn't find any other reference to the Horcrux's darkest secret. She picked up the first book she had found and turned to take it to the living room, but Malfoy stood in the doorway, blocking her path.

"What could be so important, Granger, that you'd search for books on _my_ side of the room?" He grabbed the book she held and flipped through it curiously. His eyes fell on something on the page, and his eyes grew wide. "Horcruxes, Granger? You're researching Horcruxes?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

"Seriously, why are you reading about those?"

Malfoy's face was white, and his eyes pierced Hermione's—almost as if he was afraid.

"I've murdered someone," Hermione hissed at him, smirking at the momentary look of shock on his face.

"I said, why are you reading about those?"

Hermione opened her mouth in mock surprise. "Voldemort hasn't trusted you with his secret?"

Malfoy's fingers tightened on the book's spine. "I—I didn't know that you knew."

"Puh-lease, Malfoy! We've had Dumbledore on our side all along. Did you really think that Voldemort's immortality was something Dumbledore hadn't noticed?"

"Dumbledore knew," Malfoy said slowly. "But I didn't think anyone else did." He held the book in front of her. "You still haven't told me why you're reading this."

"Is it that hard to figure out?" She reached for the book, but he, being several inches taller than her, held it out of reach.

"You're going to destroy them," Malfoy said finally, looking at Hermione for confirmation.

"Give the boy a prize," she responded bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Hand over the book, Malfoy."

"Do you really think I'm going to give you the book that's going to lead to the Dark Lord's downfall?"

Hermione glared at him, but he turned and tossed the book towards the fire—and it landed in the grate.

"MALFOY!" she screamed, lunging at him with her hands outstretched. She reached for her wand as both of them crashed to the floor, but Malfoy grabbed her wrists and held them tightly as she struggled against him. "Let me go!"

"Get off me, you foul creature!" Malfoy hissed, his grey eyes staring into her brown ones. Their faces were inches apart, but the scene was far from romantic.

There was a series of crashing noises from just behind the dining table, causing both students to jump to their feet.

"Oh, excuse me," the table said sarcastically, as if it could see them staring at it. "I shouldn't've finished those beans from lunch."

Both Hermione and Malfoy burst out laughing.

"That wasn't you," Hermione said after a moment, struggling to regain her composure.

"Of course it wasn't, you stupid Muggle-born. That was a little thing called sarcasm. And yet you're staring at me like I just made that horrendous noise."

Malfoy cautiously crept around the side of the table to the northern stretch of wall—but it had turned into a window.

Hermione picked up a book from the couch. "Malfoy, move."

He smirked. "Finally figured out what books are useful for, have you?"

She threw the book at the window as hard as she could, as if she would hit Malfoy, as if she could hurt him by throwing it…but there was no sound.

"Where'd it go?"

Stepping forward, Malfoy reached out a hand to touch the window. "There's no glass," he said finally, putting his whole arm through the window.

"So this is Dumbledore's way of letting us out. We have to climb through the window. Why wouldn't he just open the door?"

But Malfoy had already climbed through the window. He threw his arm back up to catch one of the corners on the roof, but Hermione reached out the window and shoved him, sending him sliding down the roof. She then slowly lowered herself out the window, realizing too late that her wand was lying on the floor where she'd wrestled with Malfoy. But she was already sliding down towards the Hogwarts grounds.

She landed on her arm next to Malfoy, who was sitting up in the grass. "Where are all the other students?" he asked, standing up and brushing himself off. Hermione moaned and tried to stand, but she couldn't move her arm.

"Malfoy, my arm!"

But he wasn't listening. "It's Saturday evening, the last weekend of school, and there aren't any students outside. What's wrong with that picture?"

"MALFOY!"

The boy flinched as though Hermione might be ready to tackle him again. "What?"

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head fiercely, causing some of her hair to fall out of her ponytail. "My arm. I think it's broken."

"Stand up," Malfoy said coldly. He grabbed the arm she had fallen on and tapped it gently with his wand. "_Bracio Lemorend."_ The pain left her arm and she smiled gratefully at him. "Granger, don't think this means I'm going to start being nice to you. But you can't exactly do anything with a broken arm, can you?"

Hermione moved her arm around for a moment, testing it. "Well, in any case, thanks."

Malfoy ignored her and instead moved to the tree closest to the lake. "Don't you find it odd that there aren't any other students out here?"

"They're probably all celebrating the end of term," Hermione said absentmindedly. "And I think we should join them." She approached the vast castle doors, noticing as she walked that something didn't look right.

It was nearly 8:00, but there was still at least an hour of daylight left. Most students _would _be outside, enjoying the homework-free evening with friends.

"What's with the Whomping Willow?" Malfoy said suddenly, and Hermione turned to see what he meant.

The tree was distorted and blurry, as if it was only a picture. It moved, but it wasn't the same tree on the Hogwarts grounds.

Hermione walked up the stone steps and reached out to touch the door—but her hand collided with something else. A thick shield of class covered the door.

"Malfoy," Hermione whispered faintly. She took a step back and grabbed his wrist.

"Don't touch me, Mudblood," he snapped, recoiling. "What's the matter?"

"We're…we're not…we're…I think we're—"

"Spit it out, Granger! What're you trying to say?"

"We're enclosed in a wall of glass!"

Malfoy touched the glass and glanced back at the tree. "Okay, so we're not on the Hogwarts grounds. It's a simulation. Dumbledore thought we could use some fresh air." He snorted. "Best thing he's done for us all year."

As they continued to examine their surroundings, Hermione could hear a tiny whisper from somewhere nearby. "Shush!" she ordered Malfoy, staring at the tree closest to the lake. She couldn't explain it, but she had the feeling that Dumbledore wanted them to hear whatever the voice was saying.

"Malfoy! Over here!" She ran to the tree and knelt down next to it, Malfoy right behind her.

"…Dumbledore said she was alright, and I believe him," the voice was saying. Hermione gasped as she saw the faint figures of Harry and Ron, sitting under this very tree.

"But he didn't tell us where she is! She wouldn't go off somewhere without telling us!"

"Ron, be reasonable."

"Harry, how can you be so calm?"

"Give him a break, will you, Ron?" Neville said suddenly.

"Hermione's just fine," Luna told him dreamily. "You know she can take care of herself."

Ginny popped her head around the side of the tree. "Hey guys!" She kissed Harry on the cheek and grabbed his hand, sliding down along the trunk to sit next to him. "What's wrong with you, Ron?"

"'Mione's gone, that's what!" Ron said furiously, shaking his head. "She promised to let me teach her how to play chess last night!" He looked around, as if expecting to see Hermione peek out from behind the tree. "You know what else is funny? I haven't seen Malfoy since dinner last night."

"Dumbledore said she's fine! Would she be fine if Malfoy had done something to her?"

Malfoy whistled. "Weasel's got a major thing for you, Granger."

Hermione blushed. "Malfoy, I wasn't lying before."

"Granger, look at him. He looks positively murderous."

"That's just because he missed the opportunity to force me to be the student for a change," she responded bitterly. "I think Dumbledore wants us to hear this, so could you please be quiet?"

Malfoy smirked, but he remained quiet so both of them could hear what happened next.

"We'll catch you guys later," Neville was saying as he and Luna stood up and walked away—and now Hermione was convinced that Dumbledore had something special in mind for this conversation. Ginny, Ron, and Harry were the only ones left sitting here under this tree. The perfect scenario for a discussion about Horcruxes.

"If Hermione was here—"

"She'd tell us to keep looking for Horcruxes. If we're going to make Dumbledore's mission worthwhile, we need to trust that Hermione's okay!"

Ron banged his head against the back of the tree. "We can't do it without her."

"You lazy pig!" Hermione shouted. "That's just an excuse!" Ron looked up as if he'd heard Hermione's outburst.

"Is someone shouting?"

The three of them listened intently, but no other sound came.

"So, what about the Horcruxes?"

"I'm not discussing them," Ron continued.

"What if Hermione's doing a mission for Dumbledore, Ron? What if her mission depends on whether or not we wait for her to come back?"

"What if she's not?"

"RON!"

Ginny reached over and smacked Ron's face. "Shut up, you git. Harry, tell us what we need to do next."

"The remaining Horcruxes are Ravenclaw's diadem, Hufflepuff's cup, Nagini the snake, and one other. I think it's pretty safe to say Nagini will be the last one to be destroyed, since she's always with Voldemort."

"And Ravenclaw's diadem is somewhere in the castle," Ginny added. "But we don't know exactly where."

Harry gaped at her. "How do you know?"

"I was walking back from class a few weeks ago, and I overheard the Bloody Baron mumbling about something on his way to the dungeons. He said Ravenclaw's daughter was in a foul mood, that she wouldn't say where the diadem was, and then something about hiding places 'within these walls', is how he said it."

This time Ron's mouth fell open. "And why didn't we hear about this?"

"I told Dumbledore," Ginny said after a moment. "He said he was going to tell you, Harry."

Hermione had a sudden thought. "Harry," she said loudly, willing him to hear her. "The magic protecting the last Horcrux is so powerful that we're going to need help getting it!"

Harry shook his head. "Guys, I think we need to focus on the unknown Horcrux right now."

"What? Why? The diadem will be the easiest to find, why can't we just take care of that first?"

"Something tells me that the unknown Horcrux is going to be the hardest to tackle. Like it's got some kind of powerful magic protecting it."

Hermione had forgotten that Malfoy was standing behind her; she jumped when she saw him out of the corner of her eye.

"Care to fill me in, Granger? What's this powerful magic?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Hermione said teasingly, turning back to watch Harry and Ron.

The ghostly silhouette of Lavender Brown appeared around the side of the old tree, and Hermione's fists clenched as she watched the girl drop to her knees at Ron's side. "Won-Won," she said softly, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

Harry and Ginny rolled their eyes. "We'd better go," Ginny whispered in Harry's ear as Lavender's lips slowly made their way to Ron's mouth.

"Ditto," Hermione whispered, afraid she'd start screaming if she stayed to watch what happened. And, quite frankly, she didn't want to find out.

When she turned around, Malfoy was staring at the castle's many towers. "If we can't get inside the castle through the doors, how are we supposed to get back to the bloody Room of Requirement?" he asked, sounding only slightly concerned.

Hermione looked around. Glass enclosed them on all sides, and the window they'd climbed out of was too high for them to reach again. How would they get back up there?

**A/N: I know it's a cliffhanger, so you'll just have to wait and find out what happens next! Don't forget to review!**


	6. An Unexpected Goodbye

**UNEXPECTED GOODBYE**

"I could tell Harry! He's just walking up to the front of the castle—" Hermione began, but Malfoy shook his head.

"What could Potter do? He'd go ballistic and then the whole school would know we were alone in the Room of Requirement and—"

"I get it," Hermione said shortly, turning to face him. "So how do we get out of here?"

Malfoy glanced up at the window to the Room of Requirement. It was the only thing that looked real at all.

"We have to get back up there," he repeated to himself, taking out his wand and staring at it as if expecting it to magically transport him to the top. "You've got your wand, right?"

Hermione shook her head. "It fell out of my pocket when I was—"

"Yeah, wrestling," Malfoy finished for her. "Well, I can transport myself."

"Alright, that sounds good. Just leave me down here, and wake me up in the morning, would you?"

Malfoy smirked. "Works for me," he said, and he turned on his heel to walk toward the high window.

"Ever heard of sarcasm?" Hermione called haughtily.

"Get over here, Granger." His voice was dangerously low.

"Why?"

"Do you want to get back up there, or not?" He reached out to take Hermione's arm, but realized that she wasn't wearing robes.

"What's wrong, Ferret?"

"I'm not touching your filthy Mudblood skin," he said at last, his hand still hovering hesitantly over her arm.

She grabbed the back of his robes. "Malfoy, just go."

"Now I'll have to burn these," he muttered to himself, and Hermione swung her arm back and slapped him as hard as she could.

"Bringing memories back, Malfoy? Shut up or I'll do it again!"

She hadn't expected Malfoy to fight back, but she was wrong. He wrenched himself free of her grasp and grabbed her soft brown curls. "_Don't you ever touch me again!_"

Hermione sank to the ground in a heap of sobs, burying her face in the long grass.

It was like someone had stabbed him in the side. He felt instant remorse, he had no right to treat her like that. A vision of his father came to mind—his father, who would kick Hermione and spit on her, and then nod to his son, perhaps even a "Well done, Draco". But neither of them had any right to hurt Hermione.

"Granger," he whispered tentatively, but she paid no attention. Why should she? He was the enemy. But if they were going to get out of the Room of Requirement, if Dumbledore would be satisfied enough to let them out on Monday…he would need to treat her like a—a friend. The word tasted strange in his mouth, even though he hadn't actually said it.

Hermione had stopped crying, but she lay in the grass, as still and silent as a corpse.

"Granger, I'm sorry," Malfoy said uncertainly, feeling like a completely different person. He had done the very thing that he had told her she didn't need to worry about.

She didn't respond, so he took the opportunity to find a spell that would transport them both back up to the third floor corridor window. He tapped his midsection several times, feeling slightly foolish as he did so.

"Granger?" The sun had gone down, and a thick purple blanket was settling across the landscape. "It's nearly dark, Granger."

Again, he received no reply. He touched her arm with a gentle hand and rolled her over to face him—but she had fallen asleep.

_Not hurting her is one thing,_ Malfoy thought furiously. _Carrying her up to the window is another._ But what choice did he have?

Not wanting to wake her (mainly because he didn't want her attacking him again), he tucked his muscular arms underneath her sleeping form and lifted her as gently as he could. Her head rested on his chest, while her curls bounced against his arm as they walked.

Malfoy muttered the spell and felt his feet leave the ground as both of them began to ascend. He had to admit, there was an unexplainable beauty about the peaceful expression on her face as she slept, unaware that her nemesis was the one helping her. Unaware that he saw her differently now, different from how he'd seen her before. She wasn't a lowly Mudblood. She was a witch. She was a human being who deserved to be treated as such.

Malfoy glided through the window, and his feet hit the floor a moment later. The last thing he needed right now was for Hermione to wake up to the stupid table's suggestive remarks. He tiptoed around it and entered Hermione's room, laying her on the bed.

She started to stir, but rolled over to face the wall as Malfoy unfolded a blanket and covered her with it. Taking care of someone like this was, again, unfamiliar to him, but as he watched that peaceful smile, he knew he liked taking care of someone. Taking care of _her._

It took every ounce of self-control he had to avoid slapping himself. What was he thinking? So what, it felt good to do things for others, that's what Potter and Weasel and Dumbledore were always saying. But deep down, he knew that wasn't it.

The next morning, Malfoy woke up to a bloodcurdling scream. He sat up and looked around, then rolled his eyes. It was probably just a spider or something. Granger was always one to overreact. Nevertheless, he quietly left his room and crossed the living room to Hermione's room, pushing the door open without even bothering to knock.

Hermione was sitting up in her bed, wearing a skimpy camisole and a shocked expression.

"Granger! What's the matter?"

Hermione lifted up the covers so Malfoy couldn't see her upper torso. "It wasn't me," she said quietly. She was afraid, Malfoy knew she was afraid he would hurt her again.

But she was also full of surprises. She jumped out of bed and hurtled past him to the window in the living room, where she leaned out and looked around.

Her tiny shorts were a slight distraction to Malfoy, who was still reeling from her sudden movement. "I thought you screamed," he said, shaking his head. "If you didn't, then who did?"

Hermione pulled herself back through the window. "It was someone outside, I know it was." She glanced at the floor next to the couch. "Grab my wand, would you?"

"What're you doing?"

"Going to find out what's wrong," she told him simply, running back into her room for a change of clothes.

Malfoy picked up Hermione's wand and felt a rush of energy as he did so. He gripped it tightly, staring at it in disbelief. Before he had a chance to process what had happened, Hermione appeared in the doorway to her room.

"My wand," she repeated in an apprehensive tone.

He handed her the wand and stepped back, as if he was afraid it would explode.

Hermione ran to the window and jumped out, breaking the fall with a flick of her wand. She landed neatly on the grass, noticing that the grass where she had fallen asleep was still matted down. Had Malfoy actually carried her back up to the tower?

The scream echoed again, and Hermione ran towards the front doors of the castle. She could make out silvery shapes of students crowding around something—or someone.

There were sobs coming from all around; they were faint, but they pierced Hermione like a knife blade. What had happened? She was right against the glass wall, she couldn't move any farther. But she didn't need to. Lavender Brown buried her face in Ron's shoulder as he stroked her hair. The others moved away as McGonagall came tearing around the corner, looking possessed.

There, on the floor, with a final look of determination on her face, was the lifeless form of Parvati Patil.

"NO!" Hermione screamed, collapsing onto the stone steps. She hadn't been best friends with Parvati, but they shared the same room in the dormitories, and they'd often discuss problems or decisions with each other when it seemed like no one else would listen.

Darkness enclosed Hermione as Malfoy's shadow fell across her sobbing form. "Who is it?" His voice was choked with emotion Hermione had never thought him capable of feeling.

"P—Parvati," she stammered, meeting Malfoy's stunned gaze. "She's—d—de—dead."

"How?" It sounded as though the boy had gone into shock.

"I don't know."

Without thinking, Hermione muttered the same spell Malfoy had used the night before. She felt her feet leave the ground, and she pointed her wand at the window to the Room of Requirement.

Malfoy followed her a few minutes later, coming into an empty living room. _She must be in her room,_ he thought automatically. But he didn't disturb her at all.

Both of them skipped breakfast, but at lunchtime Hermione came out of her room, looking exhausted. "Malfoy, are you going to eat?"

He'd been sitting on the couch, staring at the wall. "Why?"

"Because I have to be here if you're going to sit down without getting shocked."

Malfoy shook his head, expecting her to go back to her room, but she walked briskly toward the door and began muttering more incantations.

"Granger, what're you doing?" His voice held more disdain than he'd intended.

"I just can't believe Dumbledore hasn't let us out yet. Parvati's dead. If something bad's happening, I could help."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "And what am I, chopped newt's leg?"

"You'd just join your father and Voldemort, Malfoy. Don't pretend you're not one of them."

A burning sensation shot through Malfoy's left forearm, and he groaned.

"What?"

He sneered. "None of your business, Mudblood. And so what if I'm one of them?"

"If you're one of them, then you have no reason to feel sorry about Parvati. You have no reason to treat me like a human being. And Dumbledore has no reason to let you out of here."

Malfoy turned away from her and swore, but he knew her words were true. Why would Dumbledore let them out if the boy would just help Voldemort?

Malfoy might be a Death Eater, but he was the only person in the room Hermione had to talk to. She moved around to the couch, ignoring the table's complaints about their lack of interest in eating.

"I just can't get that look out of my head."

Curious, Malfoy sat beside her. "What look?"

"The look on Parvati's face. It was a look of determination, as if she was fighting within the last few minutes of her life."

Malfoy's eyes widened. "You think it was the Death Eaters?"

**A/N: Another cliffie! Sorry to those of you who are devastated that I've killed Parvati. I was trying to find someone who wasn't a main character but was still important enough where her death would have an impact. And I've got big plans for the rest of the story, so stay tuned!**

**I'm starting to run out of ideas for minor themes, so when you all click the review button (which you're going to do, aren't you?) it would be helpful if you could offer me some ideas! I've got the main plot outlined, but I could use ideas for smaller themes. And don't forget to tell me what you thought! Thanks to all who've reviewed so far and thanks to those who are going to review!**


	7. The Answer is in the Vision

**THE ANSWER IS IN THE VISION**

"It could be Death Eaters," Hermione said absently, still staring at the door. "I just don't understand why Dumbledore hasn't let us out yet."

"I have a few ideas," Malfoy muttered, flinching as Hermione glared at him.

The Horcrux book sat in the fireplace grate, where the fire burned continuously. But as Hermione watched it, the book remained where it was—the white pages visible behind the flames.

"Malfoy!" Hermione jumped up and ran to the fireplace, whipping out her wand and Summoning the book. It looked just as it had looked before Malfoy threw it into the fire the previous night.

"Merlin's beard," Malfoy said in astonishment, reminding Hermione of Ron. They both stared at the book, Hermione slowly turning the pages and examining the spine.

"It didn't burn up!" Hermione managed to say, her mouth still hanging open.

Malfoy folded his arms across his chest. "So what? Dumbledore cursed the bloody thing so I couldn't do anything to it."

Hermione didn't respond, but went back into Malfoy's study and sat down to read more of the book.

"Granger, didn't we already discuss this?"

"If Voldemort really is responsible for Parvati's death, I'm going to do my best to help Harry bring about his downfall."

Malfoy continued to stand in the doorway as Hermione scanned the book. But try as she might, she couldn't find any more clues about the location of the final Horcux. She tossed the heavy book aside and picked up _Cinderella,_ seating herself on the couch in the living room.

Malfoy sat in the armchair across from the couch. "Granger, care to fill me in?"

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about, Ferret."

He reached over and snatched the book from her hands.

"Malfoy!"

"Cinderella again, is it? Still hoping Weasel will realize he's your Prince Charming?"

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"I want answers," he said simply. "I want to know why that blonde cow was snogging Weasley. And I want to know—" He leaned in so he was at her eye level. "—what you know about the Horcruxes."

"I don't trust you, Malfoy."

"Why not?" He said it automatically, but he knew she had a thousand reasons not to trust him.

"Give me back my book!"

"Mmm, what's this?" He flipped to the end of the book and noticed glowing words on the once-empty pages. "Written our own little ending, have we?" His eyes scanned the page, and a smirk was crawling across his face. "I see you've included details about their wedding night."

"I have not!" Hermione shouted, glaring at him.

"Oh no, of course not. It only stops when they pull the covers over themselves." He rolled his eyes. "Well, I suppose you'd want to write about stuff like this. Since it'll never happen to you."

Hermione pulled out her wand. "Shut up, Ferret. Don't talk to me like that again."

"Okay, fine. I won't. On the condition that you tell me what I want to know."

"I'm the one with the wand, Malfoy. You're not in any position to make conditions."

"What happened between you and Weasel?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Granger, for someone who's always got their hand up in class, you're not as smart as the professors give you credit for."

Hermione stared at him with a blank expression. "What?"

Malfoy walked up to her, grabbed her shoulders, and shook her violently. "I'm not the ignorant clot you think I am. I know the last Horcrux is protected by powerful magic. And I also know that Dumbledore may be off his rocker, but he wouldn't put us together for no reason. He knows how much we hate each other."

Hermione bit her lip, fighting back tears. She wouldn't meet his gaze, but began telling him about Ron.

"Ron and Lavender got back together after we—after it happened," she began awkwardly, feeling her face grow red.

"He broke up with her last year, I thought? Wasn't he, like, murmuring your name while he was in the hospital wing?"

"He and I started going out last year after the whole Lavender thing, but there were never really any sparks. He finally convinced me that we needed to prove our love, so we should—you know. And then he decided he didn't really love me, and that we should only be friends. So, now he's back with Lavender."

They sat in silence for a moment, until Malfoy asked, "What about the Horcruxes?"

"There are six of them, not including Voldemort's current body."

"Don't say the Dark Lord's name," Malfoy growled, feeling his temper rising again.

"Oh, that's right, you call him the 'Dark Lord'. Well, I'm not particularly worried about that, Malfoy."

They glared at each other. "What were you reading about yesterday, Mudblood?"

"If you're going to call me that, I have no problem saying _Voldemort's_ name," she said smoothly. "And what I was reading about is none of your business."

"How many of the Horcruxes have been destroyed?"

"Two: the diary and the ring."

"And which are left?"

"Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's diadem, Nagini the snake, and one other."

"I'll bet you're supposed to find Ravenclaw's diadem. Weaselette was saying something about that outside, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, but Dumbledore said we need to focus on the unknown Horcrux. I think Harry's got the diadem covered."

Malfoy rubbed his hands together slowly. "Granger, what you read yesterday. It had something to do with me. Am I right?"

Hermione shook her head, not meeting his gaze. She wasn't sure Dumbledore wanted Malfoy to know about the secret yet.

Correction: _She_ didn't want Malfoy to know about the secret yet. She didn't want him to know that she would need him to complete the job. Death Eater Malfoy would have to help Hermione Granger—the girl he hated the most (besides Pansy Parkinson, Hermione recalled with a smile).

"Fine, don't tell me. But remember, the sooner you tell me what else you know, the sooner we can get out of here."

Hermione stole a glance at him. He was still rubbing his hands together, staring at her with an eager expression. He thought she'd cave and spill the beans. But no, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"If it's all the same to you, Ferret, I'm going to my room."

"_I'm going to my room,_" Malfoy muttered under his breath, in a crude imitation of Hermione's tone as she got up from the couch. She smirked, knowing that he wouldn't give up until he'd learned the secret.

The secret! She spun around to face Malfoy again, staring at him with a panicked look on her face. She tore her eyes away from his and glanced at the doorway to his study. Understanding dawned on his face, and he was at the doorway in three strides.

"I need that book!" Hermione shouted, running after him and launching herself into the room. He threw out his left arm to stop her from going any further, but she put more weight into the fall than he had anticipated, and she fell against him.

She felt her mouth open and a strangled cry echoed around the room—followed by a shout from Malfoy, but neither of them cared, because something was happening.

Images flashed across Hermione's mind. She saw the Room of Requirement, only it looked almost brand-new. Someone was standing in front of a large chest of drawers, banging on it frantically. The image faded and she saw two teenagers standing together, a young boy cupping his hands around a girl's face. The boy was tall with jet-black hair and pale skin, while the girl had blond hair and a peaceful smile on her face. The boy lowered his lips to hers in a sweet kiss—but the vision changed in a whirlwind of silver light and the boy's face was contorted with rage. Hermione stifled a gasp as she recognized his face…the blond-haired girl lay at his feet, her body covered in blood, as he raised his wand towards someone Hermione could not see…

The image changed again. Hermione saw Parvati, with an angry look on her face, standing in front of a Death Eater. She drew her wand, but a jet of green light hit her chest before she could do anything—and she fell onto the carpet in the Hogwarts entrance hall. When the image faded yet again, she could see Malfoy standing at the door to her side of the room, only two days previously. He listened as she hummed to herself—and a smile graced his face. Then he knocked and she called back with disdain before he said something about dinner…and then Ron stood before her, glaring at her. He was talking to her, but she couldn't hear anything he said. After a moment, he raised his hand back and struck her across the cheek, and the sting of the blow hit her like a ton of bricks, like it had really happened.

And the visions were gone. Hermione looked around, realized that she was in Malfoy's study, and let herself fall—but she never hit the floor. She felt cold arms wrap themselves around her, and she lost consciousness.

**I know this chapter was a little bit shorter than my usual, but I've got a bit of writer's block****.**** Thanks to everyone who offered ideas from the last chapter, I'm going to use them in the next few chapters! And the writing in the Cinderella book is going to come into play VERY soon, so it wasn't just there, there's a definite purpose for Hermione's extended ending in the Muggle fairytale book :D Review, please!**


	8. Left Behind

**THE KEY AND THE MASK PART 8**

Hermione sat up with a jolt, once again lying on the living room couch. The first thing she noticed when she opened her eyes was the gnawing ache from her stomach.

"The Muggle-born really shouldn't starve her poor child," the table commented in a tone of false sympathy.

"Shut up," Hermione muttered, slowly standing up and stretching. The clock above the fireplace told her she'd only been unconscious for an hour. Where was Malfoy?

The images she'd seen in the vision came back to her as if she'd walked into a brick wall. What had happened when she had fallen against him? The black-haired boy had been Tom Riddle, who was, of course, Voldemort. But who was the blond-haired girl? And why had he been _kissing_ her? Love was an emotion Tom Riddle had never been able to feel—Hermione was sure of that.

Malfoy's bedroom door opened slowly and quietly, as if he was afraid of waking her up.

"You're awake," he said monotonously, leaning against the door frame.

"I'm hungry," she told him in response, beckoning him toward the table.

They both sat down, and Hermione felt Malfoy's eyes on her face. "Granger, what did you see in the vision?"

Was that a hint of worry in his voice? "What did _you _see, Malfoy?"

"I asked first, _Mudblood,_" he hissed, narrowing his eyes. She smirked at the immature scowl on his face.

"What's the matter?" she asked in a sing-song voice.

"The black-haired kid. You saw him, right?"

"Yeah."

"That was—"

Hermione leaned back against her chair. "It was Voldemort."

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment.

"You saw him snogging that blond girl."

"Yes, Malfoy."

"Who was she?"

"I don't know. I've never seen her before."

Malfoy gazed at the portion of the table on Hermione's left. "I've seen her. I don't know where, but I know she looks familiar."

"Maybe she was a relative," Hermione offered disdainfully. "It would make sense, since your family has always been close to Voldemort."

Malfoy chose to ignore her comment and instead changed the subject. "What else did you see?"

"I saw a man banging on a chest of drawers…" She began, but something told her that was not what he wanted to know. "And then…you were listening to me humming."

"What?"

"Two days ago, when you told me dinner was ready, or something like that. You were standing outside my door, listening."

Malfoy's expression did not change—he didn't even blush. "What else did you see?"

"I saw Parvati. She was trying to fight a Death Eater, but she didn't reach her wand in time."

Malfoy's eyes widened. "So, it really was a Death Eater."

"Yeah."

The clock rang 3:00. Malfoy yawned. "If you don't mind, _Granger,_ I'm going to take a shower." He stood up and stretched, then slowly walked to his bedroom. The second Malfoy touched his doorknob, Hermione doubled over, more images flashing through her head.

She heard a distant, "Granger?" Then a shriek that she was sure had come from her own mouth as her head hit the table and pain shot through her body. Malfoy's rough arms grabbed her, but she resisted him, and he threw her onto the couch. She struggled to see the blurry pictures that flashed across her mind.

The Cinderella book lay on the floor, worn and tattered from continuous use. Hermione saw Malfoy's face, streaked with tears, staring at something Hermione couldn't see. But the images stopped there.

"Hermione!"

Malfoy's face slowly came into focus, a tone of mixed disdain and concern in his voice.

"Did—did you just call me—Hermione?" she asked groggily, squinting at him as he moved his head farther away to give her room to sit up.

"I thought you were having a seizure or something. So, I figured, since you wouldn't respond to 'Granger', maybe you'd respond to 'Hermione'."

"And what's with the freaking throwing me on the couch?" Hermione asked, quickly sitting up so her face was inches from his.

"Sor_ry,_" he said rudely, glaring at her. "Was it another vision?"

"Yeah," she muttered, reaching out a hand to push him away; to her surprise, he grabbed her hand and pulled on her arm so she was forced to look at him.

"What did you see?"

Another burst of pain shot through her head, and she winced. Malfoy let go of her arm. "The Cinderella book," she said quickly, startled by his action.

"That wasn't all, was it?"

"How would you know?"

"Lucky guess. Now, what else did you see?"

"Nothing." It was a complete lie, but Hermione wanted to find out whether he would press the issue.

Malfoy studied her face for a moment, then opened his mouth in a noise of disgust and turned on his heel to walk back to his room.

Hermione stared out the window, and a moment later she could hear the shower running in Malfoy's bathroom.

The Cinderella book. Tattered and torn. What was the significance of that? And why had Malfoy been _crying? _She was sure that he would've laughed if he'd heard that part of the vision. What could be so terrible that it would make _Draco Malfoy _cry?

"Would the Muggle-born care for a snack?" The table asked loudly, sighing as if his politeness was forced.

Hermione looked at her hands folded in her lap. Tomorrow Dumbledore would let them out, and they would be back with their own friends, with their own houses, back to the rivalry and the disdain and the annoyance. And she was starting to get sick of it.

If only she knew how wrong she was.

For the rest of the day, Malfoy stayed in his room, and Hermione in the living room. They skipped dinner altogether (not that Hermione minded, since her stress had taken her appetite away).

That night, Hermione's dreams were filled with images from Cinderella. The movie she'd seen when she was five years old. But the story had a different ending each time. Horrible things happened to Cinderella, and then there was the Prince and the happy ending, as usual. But the door of the "happily ever after" carriage swung open, and a frightening figure burst in, banging a spiked club against the wall.

"Stop it!" Hermione screamed, putting her hands out to shield her face.

"GRANGER!"

The door of her bedroom burst open, and Malfoy appeared in the doorway, fists clenched and eyes glaring.

"Granger, what is it going to take for me to wake you up on the _morning that we're supposed to leave Hogwarts? _On the morning that we're _no longer trapped here? _The morning that I _never have to see you again?_"

Hermione picked up her pillow and threw it as hard as she could at the door, which slammed in Malfoy's face.

"The last morning," Hermione heard the table mutter tearfully. "The last time I'll ever serve breakfast to you two." The table sniffed, and then shouted in a high-pitched voice, "I'm going to miss you!"

Hermione pushed back the covers and ran a hand through her hair. Today was the day. Finally, they would be out of this hellhole and back home, where they belonged. But Hermione felt a pang in her chest as she realized that Hogwarts _was_ her home. Her home wasn't in the Muggle world, it wasn't with her parents. It was here, with Harry and Ron and Ginny and Neville and all the others.

Her door burst open again, and she seized the bedspread to cover herself.

"Mudblood, the first students are heading for the carriages. Are you getting up, or not?"

Hermione grabbed her wand on the bedside table and shot a Stunning spell at him, sending him spinning into the coffee table.

"I really don't feel like doing another Cruciatus Curse this morning," he said snidely as he stood up.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because _Weasley Junior_ hasn't done anything to you," Hermione replied immediately, pointing her wand at his approaching figure.

Malfoy smirked. "Shut up, Granger."

"Make me, _Malfoy._"

He strode into the room, his wand outstretched to reach Hermione's neck, but he pointed it instead at the trunk next to her bed. "Coming?"

Hermione blinked, taken aback by his act of "gentlemanly" behavior." She climbed out of the bed and grabbed her trunk forcefully from his wand's power. "I'll take care of my things, thank you."

He narrowed his eyes with a smirk and swept out of her room.

A few minutes later she hauled her trunk and schoolbags into the living room, tossing them onto the couch and smoothing out her Muggle clothing.

"Granger, must you wear those filthy things in my presence?"

She turned to see Malfoy leaning against the fireplace mantle, scowling at the purple t-shirt and denim shorts she wore. "I can wear whatever I want to," she replied smartly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Don't talk to me about what I wear until you're willing to do something about your freaking hair, Malfoy." She swore inwardly, thinking that his wild hair was the one thing she found even slightly attractive about him.

He raised his eyebrows, and she swore again, realizing that she must have cursed aloud.

"What's the matter, Mudblood?"

Hermione swept past him to the door and knelt to the level of the lock. The last few students were heading for the Great Hall, the last breakfast they would have in the old school before they left for the summer. For Hermione, it would be the last breakfast she'd _ever_ have in the school. The thought brought tears to her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away and focused on the stragglers.

Padma Patil passed the door, heading down towards the Great Hall. Lavender Brown and Luna Lovegood trailed behind her, Lavender chatting animatedly and Luna quietly following. But the painful expression on Padma's face was unmistakable.

"I wonder if Dumbledore will tell us where Hermione is," Luna commented when Lavender stopped talking to take a breath.

"He'll have to," Lavender said in a bored tone, rolling her eyes. "She can't stay in the Wizarding World for the summer, she's got Muggle parents to get back to."

"But it really _would_ be interesting to find out where she's being held," Luna replied, oblivious to Lavender's tone. "I think it's possible that she may have been abducted by Snaggle-toothed Hornswallows, and Dumbledore's searching for her but he hasn't gotten any leads yet, and so he doesn't want to alarm any of the students with this news." Lavender and Padma both froze in the hallway, staring at Luna, their mouths open in shock.

"It's just a theory," Luna concluded modestly, gesturing toward the end of the hallway. The three disappeared around the corner.

"Granger? What's going on out there?"

"Last minute students heading down to breakfast," Hermione answered, changing her position in front of the door. "Why isn't Dumbledore letting us out yet?"

"Well, I don't know about you, Granger, but I'm hungry. So would you mind sitting at the table so I can eat something?"

"Yes, in fact, I would." She took another look through the keyhole, but the corridor was completely empty. Her stomach growled.

"_Weasley Junior_ didn't get anything to eat last night. How selfish can someone be?" Malfoy remarked, standing by the table.

"Shut up, Ferret." As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Her baby needed nourishment. Reluctantly, she made her way to the table and sat down at the same time as Malfoy. They both reached for the bowl of biscuits at the same time, and their fingers touched.

Another image shot through Hermione's mind, and she smacked the table.

"What the hell did I do?" the table snapped, abandoning all pretense.

"I didn't even get a clear picture that time," Malfoy remarked, grabbing a biscuit and taking a bite.

A Muggle song that her mother liked popped into Hermione's head, the lyrics and melody playing in her mind.

"_Every time we touch, I get this feeling, and every time we kiss, I swear I can fly. Can't you feel my heart beat fast, I want this to last, I need you by my side."_

She quickly shut that thought down, realizing that it was _Malfoy_ who happened to be the one she kept touching. No way.

After breakfast, Hermione sank into the armchair across from the couch, her trunk on the floor near the door. The silence seemed to go on forever, until Malfoy stood up from the couch and peered out the window. "Longbottom's heading for the carriages."

"So?"

"So we're never going to make it if Dumbledore doesn't let us out of this bloody room!" Malfoy began pacing the floor, looking up at the door every few minutes.

And suddenly, without warning, the clock on the mantle struck 11:00. Hermione jumped to her feet, and Malfoy stopped pacing to stare at it, his face whiter than Hermione had ever seen it.

"Granger…" Malfoy whispered, taking his gaze away from the clock to stare at Hermione's shocked expression. "We're—we're—"

"The train left," Hermione whispered back, and she sank down onto the couch, burying her face in her hands.


	9. The Search Begins

**A/N: Hello to all my faithful readers! I want to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I just got back from a two-week trip to New Mexico, where my writer's block from this story was finally cured. So, here's chapter 9! Don't forget to review, and suggestions are always appreciated! XD**

**THE SEARCH BEGINS**

Before Hermione knew it, tears poured down her cheeks and her shoulders shook with sobs. Normally, she was strong. Normally, she would've tried to look at the bright side of the situation. But, considering the fact that she was pregnant, this would _definitely_ not qualify as normal.

Malfoy had stopped pacing to run a hand through his hair, beads of sweat on his forehead. He glanced at Hermione, feeling almost…sorry for her. She was pregnant with a child that the father didn't even want, and she was stuck in this room with her nemesis at the same time. He bit his tongue, fighting a sudden urge to comfort her. But no, he was Draco Malfoy. He couldn't be…oh, shit. No. It wasn't happening. It wasn't _possible._ Draco Malfoy couldn't _possibly_ have feelings for—

Hermione turned to look at him, her face red and streaked with tears. He turned his head—he couldn't look at her like that, especially not after the thoughts he was wrestling with. He turned away and slammed his fists down on a chair, causing it to smash under the weight.

"Malfoy!"

"What?" he snapped, still not looking at her.

"Something's wrong."

"No kidding, Granger."

She narrowed her eyes. "I mean, something's _really_ wrong if Dumbledore didn't let us out before the Hogwarts Express left on the last day of term!"

Malfoy shook his head. He needed to go somewhere where he could think clearly—his room. He swiftly crossed the room and wrenched open his bedroom door, slamming it shut behind him and falling onto his bed.

Seeing the Mudblood sobbing like that, completely broken, feeling pain that he could do nothing about…at first it had been annoying. Annoying that Granger was so emotional, but that she tried to be strong when she was hurting inside. Yeah, Granger, the one who had to be brave for Potty and Weasel. But now, thinking about everything she'd been through…he felt like smacking himself for admitting it, but now he almost…admired her strength. She didn't expect Potty or Weasel, or even _Malfoy_ to be her shoulder to cry on. She didn't expect anyone to be there for her, but she just kept pressing forward.

But she was still Mudblood Hermione Granger, and just because he admired her strength didn't mean he had feelings for her. Right?

He rolled over onto his back, his limbs sprawled out on the bedspread. His hand hit—was that a book?

Sitting up, he leaned over and grabbed the book, almost dropping it because of its weight. The Horcrux book.

Malfoy's eyes widened as he propped himself onto his elbows and began to flip through the book. "I wonder what the Mudblood was hiding," he murmured to himself, but his internal struggle resumed.

_Don't call her Mudblood!_

_ Why shouldn't I? She is, isn't she?_

_ She's a MUGGLE-BORN. Not a Mudblood!_

_But Mudblood is so much more…satisfying to say._

_ Is it?_

Now that he thought about it, calling her "Mudblood" wasn't satisfying like it had been in the past. It wasn't that the name wasn't cruel enough, but that he didn't find the name so easy to roll off his tongue.

Shaking his head, he flipped to the table of contents. He ran his finger down the page and raised an eyebrow as his eyes fell on the heading "Darkest Secrets of the Horcrux". Maybe there _was_ a method to Granger's madness…

He tore to the end of the book and scanned the page, reading the same section Hermione had read only a few days previously.

_**The wizard whose soul resides within the Horcrux may elect to put a curse on the Horcrux, enabling no one to retrieve it unless accompanied by an ally, servant, or friend of the mentioned wizard.**_

Malfoy stood up so violently that the book snapped shut and fell to the floor. So it was true. Granger needed him to destroy a Horcrux. That was the big secret.

He could feel a cold sweat spreading across his arms and down to his hands. For helping the Light, he could be tortured, beaten, and killed. If the Dark Lord discovered that he was helping Harry Potter's best friend bring about his downfall, neither Malfoy nor Granger would be safe.

The room, the book, Granger, everything that was happening seemed surreal to him. He stumbled to the door, wondering if this was what it was like to be drunk. He leaned against the doorframe, feeling almost sick, until he heard a knock on the door. Startled, he swallowed and choked on his own saliva. He hastily pointed his wand at himself to unblock his windpipe and opened the door to see a white-faced Hermione Granger staring back at his equally-white face.

"The book, Malfoy. Where's the book?" Her eyes widened as he turned to look at the book lying on the floor. "You—"

Without thinking, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the room, slamming the door behind her and sliding to the floor with his head in his hands.

"You—" Hermione tried again, but Malfoy held up a hand. There was silence for several minutes, with Malfoy shaking his head and Hermione staring at him, wearing a shocked expression.

Finally, his hands slid down from his face and he just stared at the opposite wall. The Dark Lord kept resurfacing in his mind. Why should he be content to live a life of torture and murder when there was more? When there was something more fulfilling? When there was Granger?

Before he could stop himself, Malfoy stood up, fists clenched, glaring at the girl before him. "Get out," he whispered menacingly, knowing that he would regret treating her like this.

"What?"

"GET OUT!"

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, he thought she was going to cry. Or run from the room. Or both.

But to his surprise, her eyes narrowed, and she put her hands on her hips. Stubborn Hermione Granger.

"You pull me into your room, and then tell me to get out? And you think _I'm_ the one with mood swings?" She snorted and walked to the door, deliberately taking her time.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, her head began to throb violently, and she ran to the couch and fell on it. Not wanting Malfoy to hear her, she groaned quietly to herself, holding her head in her hands.

When the pain subsided, she sat up and massaged her temples, trying to get her thoughts reconnected. There was no reason why she had to be affected by Malfoy's attitude. She could search for the Horcrux herself, without waiting for his help.

Hermione slowly circled the table once, trying to take in everything she could.

"Is the Muggle-born mother so bored out of her mind that she has nothing better to do than ogle me?" The table sneered, but Hermione ignored it, squatting down to look under the table. The secret had to be on the table, or under it, or something. She began to lose her balance and fell backward, grabbing the table for support. She winced, waiting for the electric shock. But it didn't come.

"What in the world—" Hermione began.

"The Muggle-born and the Pureblood Prat have been getting along so well, I have been assured that further pain inflicted on either of them is unnecessary."

"Who told you that?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Hermione rolled her eyes and hesitated for a moment, then smacked the table as hard as she could. She didn't get shocked.

"Wow, you're not kidding," she whispered in awe, squatting and running her fingers along the bottom of the table. There had to be a compartment, or a keypad, or something that would allow her to—

Her fingers found a tiny, almost imperceptible bump in the perfectly finished wood.

"Stop, that tickles," the table said sarcastically.

Without any other clue to go by, Hermione pushed the bump and waited, frozen in place. Nothing happened.

"Hmm," she murmured absentmindedly, continuing to run her fingers along the side of the table.

"I would say you were as ignorant as a chicken, but that would be an insult to chickens," the table continued, but Hermione didn't hear it. As soon as the table started talking, Hermione was aware that something was different about the fireplace mantle opposite the windows. She stood completely still, her eyes scanning the bricks around the fireplace.

Malfoy's bedroom door swung open, and he appeared in the doorway, his face still shock-white. He didn't look happy, but he raised an eyebrow in confusion as he saw Hermione's wide eyes.

Wordlessly, she pointed to the fireplace, where a single brick stuck out on the side.

"Astonishing. It's a brick."

"Clearly, class determines intelligence," the table commented, and Hermione and Malfoy moved as one to smack the table.

"Shut up," Hermione hissed, her eyes narrowed.

"If anything, Hermione's proof that class _doesn't_ determine intelligence," Malfoy added, equally angry.

Hermione didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted.

"The _brick,_ Malfoy, happens to be the result of a bit of detective work. Now pipe down and follow me."

The boy smirked, as if he was about to tell her that she didn't give him orders, but he followed her toward the mantle, keeping his eyes on her the entire time.

Hermione pulled the brick out, stepping backward on Malfoy's foot. He shoved her forward, causing the brick to slide back into place with a _click._

And the fireplace moved two feet to the right, leaving a long, narrow tunnel big enough for one person to crawl through. Hermione glanced at Malfoy, then dropped to her stomach and began to army crawl through the tunnel. She held her wand in her right hand, the words of a Stunning spell ready on her lips. Every time her foot swung backward, Malfoy groaned and stopped crawling for a moment to get out of range.

Without warning, Hermione felt Malfoy's arm around her waist, and she was yanked against him. "Watch it, Granger!" He held her close and covered her head with his hand, pinning her to the ground.

A huge flagstone fell from the top of the chimney where it intersected the tunnel, right where Hermione had been crawling only a moment before.

As always, the still silence that ensued after the flagstone crashed to the ground was deafening. Malfoy hadn't moved, and when Hermione raised her head to look around, he was staring at the flagstone as if expecting it to explode.

She cleared her throat. "Do you _mind?_" Her voice was muffled. He stared at her for a moment, then slowly removed his arm from her waist and raised an eyebrow in embarrassment. "Maybe I should go first," he pointed out hesitantly, gesturing to the tunnel ahead of them.

"Maybe you should," Hermione agreed, shrinking back and holding her wrist where she'd fallen on it.

"What happened?"

"It's nothing." She tried to move her arm, but winced in pain.

"Here," he whispered, and he gently took her arm and pointed his wand at it, muttering a spell. Instant relief flooded through her body, and she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"That better?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Yeah. And whatever you're trying to do, it's not working."

Malfoy was taken aback. He wasn't trying to do anything…except get through the next hour without either of them ending up DEAD.

He crawled forward, glancing behind him every few minutes to see Hermione still glaring at him suspiciously. But they made it safely through the tunnel, which led to a large circular room filled with shelves containing nothing but books.

Malfoy snuck a glance at Hermione's face, which was lit up with eagerness. Her eyes wide with wonder, her hand outstretched as if touching something would make it disappear forever. The corners of his mouth twitched, and he found that he rather liked Granger's smile.

_Wait, what? I like her smile? Since when? Since when am I even aware of her smiles? Oh for the love of Merlin, this can't be happening._

He continued to watch her as she walked toward a shelf, her face still lit up with rapture. She looked like an angel, with brown curls hanging around her face…

He wondered if she would notice if he smacked himself. He decided she probably would. _What am I thinking? Granger is a good-for-nothing know-it-all freaking MUDBLOOD!_

"Maybe there's a clue behind one of the books?" he offered, removing a small stack and feeling the wall behind it.

Hermione didn't answer.

"Granger?"

"What?"

"Did you hear me?"

"Wha—oh, yes. I mean, no."

"I said, there might be a clue behind one of the books."

"Or…" She gulped. "_In_ one of the books."

They stared at each other in horror, slowly turning to count the bookshelves. Hermione counted twenty shelves, and she guessed that each shelf contained about five hundred volumes.

"This could take a while," Malfoy observed brilliantly, and Hermione couldn't help but giggle.

He bent down to pull a bright blue book out of the bottom shelf, and a deep rumbling sound echoed off the brick wall. He stood up, his eyes scanning the room. "What was that?"

He turned to repeat his question, but he found himself looking at an empty room. Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

**Review, please!**


	10. Ice Pack

Panic attacked Malfoy's brain. And when he became aware that what he was doing was, in fact, panicking, the panic turned to annoyance. Granger and her disappearing act were messing with his mind. Why should he care if she disappeared? Why should he care if she wasn't around anymore? Why should he care if she _died?_

"Granger!" He felt along the rows of books, stopping to listen for a response.

"Malfoy, could you please get me out of here?"

Relief rushed through his body, but he tried to ignore it. "Where are you?"

"The book, Malfoy! Push it back in."

He looked around wildly until he spotted the blue book he had pulled out a few moments before. It was leaning outward in an awkward position, as if it was bolted to the bottom of the shelf. Cautiously he pushed it back in, stepping back and tightening his grip on his wand as the rumbling noise echoed again, and one of the bookshelves slowly revolved. Hermione was on a section of rotating floor, a bookshelf on each side, hiding the room beyond. She hugged the book to her chest and stepped back into the room with Malfoy, eyeing him suspiciously again. "Did I worry you?" There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She put her book back and pointed at the rotating bookshelf. "There's an entire room behind that bookshelf! The only problem is, it looks exactly the same as this room does. And there could be another room beyond that..."

Malfoy felt his jaw drop. "We have to search _both_ rooms?"

"To start with." She crossed the room and pulled the blue book out again, causing the shelf to revolve again. "Let's work our way out, starting with this room."

She turned and entered the room, but Malfoy didn't follow her. "Are you coming, Ferrethead?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Brilliant, Granger. If we're both in there, how the hell do we get out?"

Hermione bent down to the bottom bookshelf in the extended room. "There has to be a book in here that does the same thing." She began pulling out books while Malfoy watched, one eyebrow raised.

"Are you actually as lazy as you look?" Hermione asked snidely, and Malfoy was next to her in a second.

"It's a little something called 'not living on hot coals', Granger. You should try it sometime."

Hermione ignored him, continuing to pull out the books until finally, the door began to revolve again. She smirked at him and pushed the book back onto the shelf, but he pulled out the blue book on his side of the room, and the door revolved inward again.

"Malfoy! Let me out!"

He chuckled. "Maybe I should just leave you there for the night!"

There was a short silence. "You wouldn't dare," she growled menacingly.

But the unfortunate thing was, her tone made him want to do just that. He rolled his eyes. "See ya in the morning, Granger."

"Malfoy! Get me _out of here!_"

He continued laughing and conjured a pillow and blanket on the floor before reaching for a stack of books to search.

"_Silencio,_" he muttered, pointing his wand at the opposite bookshelf.

He spent the next several hours searching each book for a clue about the Horcruxes, but he found nothing.

"Granger?" He called finally, reaching for the blue book to release the revolving bookshelf. There was no reply. "Granger, this isn't funny."

He entered the small adjoining room, but Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

"Granger? Granger, come on!"

He ran his hands along the shelves of the bookcase, his eyes widening. "Hermione!" When there was, again, no reply, Malfoy closed his eyes. "Don't panic," he muttered. "Don't panic." He leaned against a bookshelf, massaging his temples. "Why am I so worried about the stupid Mudblood? She's beautiful, smart, and—Damn, she's still just a Mudblood!"

There was a low rumbling sound, and Hermione emerged from yet another room filled with shelves of books. And she was _laughing._

"Beautiful? Smart? Hardly the words I'd expect you to use when describing _me,_ Malfoy." She continued laughing.

"I didn't mean anything by it," he sneered unconvincingly. "We're supposed to be working _together,_ Mudblood."

"Oh, _okay,_" Hermione returned, still laughing. She put her hand over her stomach.

"What if I _did_ mean what I said?" Malfoy whispered, reaching her in two strides and towering over her. All signs of laughter were gone from her face in an instant as she stared up at his intimidating figure.

Her heart raced as he glared down at her. She felt butterflies in her stomach, and that's when she began to curse inwardly.

_No, no, no, no, no,_ she thought desperately, shrinking into the corner. _He's a selfish Slytherin idiot, with no consideration for anyone else…but he can be sweet when he wants to be…and the way his hair rests across his forehead—_

Malfoy turned back toward the shelves and tossed a book behind him, effectively hitting Hermione in the head.

"Watch what you're doing, Ferret!"

"Make me," he muttered, smirking at her.

She drew her wand and murmured a spell, causing a whole row of books to fly off the shelf, smashing into Malfoy and knocking him sideways.

"You—messed with the wrong—wizard," he grunted, struggling to his feet and drawing his own wand.

Within the next minute, the two were engaged in an intense battle involving flying books and shouts of "Protego!"

Hermione laughed as a book knocked Malfoy's wand out of his hand, but the flying wand shot a spell at the top of the bookshelf, sending all of the books toppling to the floor, right on top of Hermione.

****

"Granger."

Hermione opened her eyes. She was back in the Room of Requirement, lying on a couch in the living room. Again.

"Malfoy?"

She made to sit up, but a gentle hand pressed her back into the pillows and held an ice pack to her forehead.

A blond head swam before her eyes, and she blinked. "Malfoy, what are you doing?"

He snorted. "You got hit by a book. A two-foot-thick book."

Noticing that the fire was lit, she groaned and leaned back, closing her eyes.

"Are you—are you feeling alright?"

She opened her eyes. "What?"

His expression was blank as his eyes stared into hers.

"Did you just ask me if I'm feeling alright?"

He didn't answer.

"How did you get me in here?"

Malfoy's jaw twitched. "Levitation," he said shortly, then handed her the ice pack.

"How long have I been out?"

"Less than fifteen minutes," he said offhandedly, then turned purposefully toward his room. "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning, Granger."

She sat up and stared after him, and he turned around to face her again. "Keep ice on your head for the next little while."

"And if I don't?"

His eyes narrowed, but he smirked. "You will, Granger." His robes billowed behind him as he entered his room and quietly closed the door.

****

"Mudblood!"

Lucius Malfoy stood before Hermione, his wand pointed at her chest. "What do you think you're doing?"

Hermione glared at him. "Drop dead," she hissed, leaning forward to spit the words at him.

He scowled and raised his wand, his lips forming the words of the Killing Curse.

Before Draco even knew what he was doing, he had shoved Hermione aside and taken her place. He felt life leave him just as he registered the look of pure shock on his father's face…

He sat up with a start, his face covered with sweat. It had all been a nightmare, a horrible dream.

Draco slowly and shakily climbed out of bed, grabbing his wand as he headed for the door.

Everything was quiet and peaceful in the living room; there was no sound at all. Draco made his way to the couch and sat down, dropping his head into his hands.

"And what, may I ask, are you doing up at this late hour?" the table asked, somewhat rudely.

When the boy didn't answer, the table made a "tsk" noise. "Perhaps," it continued, "the Pureblood would be able to fall asleep if he was sure that the Mudblood knew how he felt about her."

"Don't call her that!" he snarled, then swore under his breath.

"Oops, I seem to have struck a nerve. Of course, I, too, find the term 'Mudblood' highly insulting and disgusting—I simply said it to confirm my suspicions."

"There's nothing for her to know," Draco whispered, but the table heard him.

"The Pureblood may have been able to fool the Muggle-born, but I am fully aware of the truth."

Draco's jaw tightened. "What do you mean?"

"The Pureblood told the Muggle-born that she was levitated into this room."

The boy turned to face the table. "Your point is?"

"She doesn't know the truth. She doesn't know what really happened after the books fell on her. Does the Pureblood intend to hide that from her forever?"

"Yes," Draco answered through clenched teeth. "And I'm going back to bed." He stood up and almost ran to the bedroom door, but he stopped at the sound of the table's voice.

"If the Pureblood should wish to examine his thoughts more closely, he might try looking in his study."

Draco rolled his eyes, but he quietly approached the door of the study and pushed it open, pointing his wand at the candles on the table.

Next to the candles sat a metal basin that hadn't been there before. And inside the basin was a silvery liquid.

A Pensieve.


	11. The Pensieve

The next morning found Malfoy and Hermione back in the book room, tossing books into a heap on the floor.

Malfoy leaned against the shelf. "Granger, isn't there a spell we can use to find out which of these books talks about Horcruxes?"

Hermione tapped her wand against her temple, her eyes taking in the small pile on the floor and the many books still to be examined. She closed her eyes and muttered something under her breath; then her eyes snapped open and she reached up to catch several of the two dozen books that fell from the shelves.

"Here we are," she announced, dumping half the pile into his arms.

For the next half hour, both of them flipped through the books, searching for new information. But the only information they found were things that they already knew.

"To undo the consequences of a Horcrux, the maker must feel painful remorse...nothing new," Malfoy commented, tossing the book aside. "I'm going to take a shower. Let me know if you find anything useful, Granger."

Hermione watched him crawl back through the tunnel, then resumed searching the books. Her eyes fell on one entitled _Recent Revelations of the Darkest Art._

_Romilda White, a professor of Potions at Beauxbatons Academy in France, describes her recent research on the Horcrux,_ the introduction read. _Much of what she has discovered is new and has never been released to the public._

Hermione skipped ahead to chapter 2, which mentioned the different forms a Horcrux could take.

_A Horcrux guarded by another form of dark magic, such as the blood offering or the security measure of a friend's assistance, is no ordinary Horcrux. Therefore, searching for a Horcrux like the ones described above will be much different than an ordinary hunt._

_ Firstly, that Horcrux can only be destroyed with the help of the Horcrux maker's ally, friend, or blood relation._

Hermione snapped the book shut, tucked it under her arm, and scrambled to her feet. This was it, this was the book they needed. She crawled through the tunnel, pushed the brick back into place, and ran to Malfoy's bedroom door. The shower was still running, but she would wait outside until he was done—

A flash of something silvery caught Hermione's eye. She cautiously pushed open the door of his study to find the Pensieve sitting on the desk.

She slowly stepped forward, her eyes wide. Where did he get a Pensieve? And why would he need one?

As she got closer, she saw that there was a memory already swimming in the basin. Letting her curiosity get the better of her, she bent forward until her nose touched the liquid, and she fell forward into the scene.

She landed somewhat clumsily next to the very room she'd just left—a room filled with hundreds of books. And standing in front of her was Malfoy and herself, flying books and shield spells spinning everywhere. She saw the pile of books fall and knock her to the ground, and Malfoy swore under his breath. He lunged for her and began to throw the heavy volumes aside. A red welt was forming on Hermione's forehead by the time he'd unburied her, and the Hermione who was watching the scene unfold clapped a hand over her mouth as she watched what had really happened.

Malfoy brushed a strand of hair off her forehead, checking for serious injuries. "Granger, get up," he said quietly, and when she didn't respond, he immediately put his arms under her and picked her up bridal style, moving swiftly toward the small tunnel.

_How the heck is he going to get me through there?_ Hermione thought, following him closely. She got her answer a moment later, when he took out his wand and shouted, "_Bombarda!_"

Malfoy walked straight through the destroyed tunnel, carrying her the entire way.

When they reached the Room of Requirement, he gently lowered Hermione's limp form onto the couch and smoothed her hair off her face. He pointed his wand at the tunnel and said, "_Reparo,_" before turning his attention back to the unconscious girl.

"Granger! Wake up!" He knelt beside her, searching her face. "Damn it, Granger, get up!"

Hermione's heart was racing as she stood behind him, completely unprepared for what was about to happen.

Malfoy reached for her hand and squeezed it. "Come on, Hermione, wake up!" And he bent down and gently kissed her lips.

He stood up and swore again, pacing the floor next to her motionless body. "You're a fool, Granger," was all he could say. There was a small rustling sound, and an ice pack appeared on the coffee table. Malfoy raised an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth twitched as the girl on the couch began to stir, and Hermione felt herself falling backward out of the memory.

Her head spun as her feet hit solid ground. Gripping the sides of the desk to steady herself, her heart raced as she heard a sharp intake of breath behind her.

She whirled around. Malfoy stood behind her, dressed in clean robes and hair slicked back. The little color he had in his face was gone, and his eyes were wide as he stared at Hermione.

"You—" he began, but Hermione ran past him out of the study, across the living room, and into her own room. Panting, she threw herself onto her bed, eyes wide and hands trembling as she gripped the edges of the pillowcase.

A thousand questions shot through her brain. _Why the hell did Malfoy kiss me? What's going on with him?_ And the most unwelcome thought of all: _Why did I feel the sudden urge to kiss him just now?_

She was suddenly hit by another pain in her head, and she groaned.

There was only one thing for her to do.

Slowly and carefully, she stood up, grabbing her wand and stuffing it into her back pocket. She reached for the doorknob just as it turned, and Malfoy slipped in through the doorway.

"I'm sorry," she told him, looking at her feet. "I mean, I should never have gone in there in the first place."

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest. "I shouldn't have left it out in the open where you could see it." He uncrossed his arms to show her what he was holding. "Was this what you wanted to show me?"

She nodded and took the book from him, flipping through it to find the section she had read.

"You need to help me destroy it," she said, pointing to the page and meeting his eyes for the first time.

He swallowed and closed his eyes. "If the Dark Lord found out about this, he would kill me, Granger," he said slowly, opening his eyes.

"What about me?" Hermione asked suddenly. "If Voldemort ever got his hands on me, he'd torture me and _then_ kill me! Do you think I haven't thought of that? Do you think I've been expecting Dumbledore and Harry and everyone else to protect me from Voldemort? Do you think that's why I haven't joined the Dark Side?" He looked slightly sheepish, but she held his gaze. "It comes down to whether or not you're willing to risk your life to do the right thing."

Malfoy crossed the room and gingerly sat down on Hermione's bed. He opened the book just as she sat down beside him. "Let's focus on _finding_ the Horcrux first."

Hermione nodded. "You have to help me destroy it," she repeated.

"I know, I heard that part. But what _is_ the Horcrux?"

"Remember the vision? Maybe it has something to do with that desk. Or maybe—maybe it was something that belonged to the blond girl."

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair. "I just can't believe that the Dark Lord ever loved anyone. Sometimes, I wonder if he's even got a heart."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I _know_ he doesn't have a heart. But he did once—and I think, if we can figure out who she is, we may be able to find out what the last Horcrux is."

For the next half hour, the two of them flipped through the book, occasionally pointing out details or side notes. When they'd been searching for almost an hour, they both reached out to point to a footnote, their fingers touched, the book shook slightly, and a thin sheet of parchment slipped out from between pages.

Both of them were too startled to move, but it was Hermione who recovered first; she bent down to retrieve the parchment.

"Abigail Watercolor," she read slowly. "Who's that?"

"I've heard the name before," Malfoy replied, staring at the parchment. "I think she was a relative. The Watercolors were Purebloods for thousands of years, until they started marrying half-bloods and Muggle-borns." He hesitated for a moment, then carefully took the parchment from Hermione, his fingers brushing hers.

"My family looks down on half-bloods and Muggle-borns because they supposedly pollute the bloodline. But the truth is—"

Hermione cut in. "Did you know that Voldemort was a half-blood?"

Malfoy winced at the name. "Yes, I know. I've been thinking about that for so long, and—I mean, you're a Muggle-born, and you're the brightest witch in our year. You've got everything going for you, you don't care what people think—"

"That's not altogether true," Hermione admitted, a half-smile quirking her mouth, but Malfoy continued.

"I can count on one hand the number of Purebloods I know who have what you have, Granger. So, what's the point of classifying yourself as a Muggle-born or a Pureblood? It all comes down to—"

"What really matters," Hermione finished for him, smiling.

He smirked and returned his attention back to the slip of parchment.

Hermione gasped. "What if Abigail Watercolor was that girl with Voldemort? Maybe this is our next clue!"

Malfoy, who was holding the book, closed it and turned it over to examine the binding. "Did you notice anything strange about how that parchment just…fell out of the book?"

"The book kind of…glowed, and then shook, but it happened when we—" Her eyes widened. "Our fingers touched. We were both pointing to a note on a page."

"Oh, shit," Malfoy muttered, gripping the book tightly. "Granger, nothing personal, but I don't fancy walking around holding your hand every time we look for Horcrux clues. There's got to be another way."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "As if I feel any different. Malfoy, can't we put our prejudices aside when it could mean the difference between life and death for all of us?"

Malfoy scowled, but he reached for her hand and took it. Nothing happened.

"Maybe that wasn't it," he said, attempting and failing to disguise the hopefulness in his voice.

"There's a time for 'living on hot coals', as you put it, Ferret," Hermione growled. "And now is one of those times." She linked her fingers through his, ignoring the electrical shock that was going through her body.

With his other hand, Malfoy slowly turned each page of the book. Suddenly, he snapped it shut and turned to face Hermione, his eyes blazing.

"There is no way I'm going to look through every book in that library for a reference to Abigail Watercolor, Granger. I don't care how much we want the Dark Lord gone."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "We?"

There was a short silence. "Yes, we," Malfoy replied finally, smirking slightly. "How about using that spell again?"

Hermione nodded. "We'll check my study first, just in case there's a clue there." She got up and slackened her grip on his hand, expecting him to let go, but he stood up and followed her, still holding her hand.

Suddenly, there was a crashing sound from the living room, and Hermione squeezed Malfoy's hand.

"Granger?"

Something wasn't right. Her vision was going blurry. She slowly lowered herself back down onto the bed, and Malfoy sat beside her. "Granger, what's wrong?"

"I—I don't know," she said finally, eyes wide as she fought to stay conscious.

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! Now push that review button and tell me what you thought of **_**this**_** chapter!**


	12. The First Mask Falls

**Okay, readers. I sincerely apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Last month, November, was National Novel Writing Month, and I spent the entire month trying to write a 25,000 word novel (I got to 90% of my goal). So here comes the next chapter, and I promise there won't be such a long lapse of time before the next update. **

**IMPORTANT! Some of you have probably been wondering why this story is called "The Key and the Mask". The Key refers to the key to the Room of Requirement, and the Mask refers to the clever pretenses that both Malfoy and Hermione have been using in order to hide who they truly are from each other. And in this chapter, we're going to see one of those masks get dramatically torn off. *suspenseful music***

**Also, I just recently watched The Deathly Hallows, Part 1, and I'm really starting to like the pairing of Ron/Hermione. Draco's still awesome, but I think I'm starting to like Ron better. :/ However, I will, of course, finish this story and write a sequel *SURPRISE!* that I've been planning for a while. So, without any further ado, here's chapter 12!**

Hermione blinked. She was still squeezing Malfoy's hand, and he hadn't made any movement to release her hand. She gently laid her other hand over her stomach, closing her eyes.

"Granger, what is it?"

"I—I'm fine," she answered uncertainly, slowly getting to her feet. "Don't worry about it."

They both turned towards the door. "What was that noise?"

"Why does everyone always assume it's me?" the table complained loudly.

"Because it always _is_ you," Malfoy answered, letting go of Hermione's hand and striding into the living room. "What was that noise?"

"How should I know?"

"Malfoy, I say we jinx this table into oblivion."

He turned to see Hermione standing in the doorway of her room, fingering her wand and wearing a mischievous smirk.

"Please, spare me," the table drawled, voice dripping with boredom.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "What spell could we use to destroy this insolent piece of furniture that would cause it _as much pain as possible?_"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "We could use _Crucio,_ but I'd rather not use an Unforgivable. Besides, we need something that would _really_ cause pain."

"How about Fiendfyre?"

"We'd end up destroying the entire room in the process. I don't think so."

"Oh, please use that one. I wouldn't mind dying as long as I knew that you two would die as well."

Hermione stepped forward and pulled back her sleeves, eyeing the table. "I've got the perfect spell." And she flicked her wand, muttering, "_Silencio!"_

"Brilliant," Malfoy muttered, smirking slightly.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione acknowledged. "Nothing could cause the table more pain than to know that it couldn't offer its two cents about whatever we're talking about."

The two of them went back into Hermione's room and sat down on the bed again, both of them reaching for the book at the same time. When their hands touched, their wands, which were lying on the end of the bed, both shot into the air and snapped together, creating a single wand.

"I'm getting tired of all these surprises," Malfoy announced through gritted teeth to the room at large, as Hermione stood up and grasped the end of the wand, which was still suspended in midair.

"I've never seen or heard of this kind of magic," she whispered in awe, examining the single wand.

"Can we undo that? I've never been good at taking turns with things," Malfoy commented, only half-joking.

Hermione turned the new wand over and over in her hands, her eyes taking in every square inch of it. And just when she'd begun to hope that she knew enough to get her through the final exams of the school year.

"I would try some spells on it, but unfortunately I don't have a wand," she told him smartly, throwing him a glare as if it was completely his fault. "Why did you have to touch my hand?"

Malfoy stared at her incredulously. "Me? _You_ touched _my _hand! You should've let me open the bloody book, and none of this would've happened!"

"So it's my fault," Hermione whispered, her eyes narrow slits.

"It sure as hell isn't my fault. Don't start blaming me because you've finally found a kind of magic you didn't know about."

"I don't know much about this magic, but I know enough to figure out that this wand is more powerful than our individual wands."

"Obviously."

She made a flourishing motion with the wand, and Malfoy was thrown backward off the bed.

"Good. It works."

"Have you lost your mind, Granger?"

"I didn't even have to say a spell. Don't you see? This wand is incredibly powerful. I'll bet Dumbledore wants us to destroy a Horcrux with it."

For the rest of the afternoon and evening, the two searched through both studies and part of the tunnel room for more clues—they even used the double-wand to try and jinx certain information out of the books, but they found nothing of consequence. By 9:00 that night, Hermione was feeling exhausted and discouraged, but Malfoy was nothing short of homicidal. He said goodnight to Hermione through clenched teeth and slammed the door behind him once he'd reached his bedroom, but no matter how hard he tried, he wasn't able to fall asleep.

After what seemed like an eternity of mulling things over in his mind, he closed his eyes and tried counting sheep, a Muggle activity that supposedly helped one get to sleep. For him? It only left him feeling more annoyed.

_Another sleepless night,_ Malfoy thought tiredly, sitting up in the bed. Not wanting to endure another lecture from the table, he decided to stay in his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, palms resting on his knees, eyes closed.

A moment later his eyes flew open. He hadn't imagined that sound—it was a shriek of pain. As quietly as he could, he tiptoed into the living room and listened outside Hermione's door.

There it was again. It was quieter this time, more like a broken sob. He looked at the mantle clock—it was nearly three in the morning. What could Granger be doing up at this hour?

He carefully turned the doorknob, glancing into the dark room. The sheets were twisted up into a ball, but Hermione wasn't in her bed.

Malfoy could feel his heart racing as he moved farther into the room. The bathroom door was closed over, and a dim light was leaking into the bedroom. Without a word, he gently pushed the door open, squinting in the near-darkness.

Hermione was on the floor of the bathroom, her face in her hands as her shoulders shook with sobs.

"Granger," he whispered. "What happened?"

She put her hands on the floor to steady herself. Although she could barely speak, she managed to choke out, "My baby."

"What about your baby?" He bent down to look into her eyes, and she grabbed his hand, continuing to sob.

"It's—it's—it's gone."

Malfoy stood up. Of course. She'd gotten up to use the bathroom and found out she'd had a miscarriage.

Inwardly, he was wondering why she wasn't relieved about it. She wouldn't have to worry about the baby having red hair.

_Stop trying to fool yourself. You're the one who's relieved, because she _won't _have a baby with red hair to remind you of that scumbag Weasley who got to her first._

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how vulnerable and helpless she was, the more he wanted to do something about it. Every other thought left his mind as he dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her.

He'd expected her to push him away, to get up and leave, to stop crying—anything but what actually happened. She leaned into him, her hands clutched the front of his robes, and she continued to cry. And, knowing that his presence was comforting to her, he tightened his hold on her and began stroking her hair.

After a few minutes, her sobs became few and far between, and gentle enough to the point where she could speak coherently. "I—I was really looking forward to having a little girl. A little girl with curly red hair."

Malfoy felt his stomach drop as Hermione continued. "Or a little boy with brown hair, and red streaks."

She let go of his robes and sat back on her knees, her head still bowed, looking at the floor. "I just—I was really looking forward to being a parent."

Malfoy nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. He didn't know what to say—but he sensed that Hermione didn't need to hear anything from him. All she needed was someone to listen to her.

_I'm starting to understand her. I'm starting to understand Granger._ He said it several times to himself, and he found that it didn't surprise him at all.

"Are you going back to bed?" he whispered gently after she'd been silent for several minutes.

She didn't answer.

"You need the sleep," he tried again, standing up, his fingers still wrapped around her arm.

"Why? Why should I sleep? It's not as if the baby needs me to rest. It's not as if I'll be helping my child if I go back to bed. I'll only be helping myself." Her eyes met Malfoy's for a moment, and then she closed them again. "I'm not going back to bed."

Malfoy pulled her to her feet and stood over her, a determined expression on his face. "_You_ need to get rest. The child wasn't the only thing that needed rest, Granger. _You_ need to go back into that room and try to sleep." And before she could protest, he gently spun her around and shoved her in the direction of the door.

He felt like someone else was controlling him. Like Potter or—he wanted to retch at the thought of that bastard—Weasley. It had gotten repetitive in his mind, but the fact remained that he was not the same Draco Malfoy who had been locked in the Room of Requirement with a Mudblood only a few days ago. He had changed.

She whirled around to face him before she'd even reached the door. "Who am I kidding? There's no way I'm going back to sleep."

"Just try."

"Fine."

She climbed back into the bed and pulled the covers over herself. Malfoy watched her for a moment, then quietly tiptoed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

As hard as he tried, Malfoy couldn't get back to sleep either. He tossed and turned, until he finally rolled out of bed and quietly opened his door.

The door was half open when he heard whispered voices at the table, and he shrank back into the shadows, listening.

"I am accustomed to lecturing the Pureblood when he comes into the living room for a midnight snack. But, you'll do."

The scrape of a chair told Malfoy that Hermione was subjecting herself to the table's torture, and he wasn't sure he was willing to listen.

"What's keeping the Muggle-born awake at this late hour?"

_Don't say anything. He'll have a field day with it._

He heard Hermione sigh. "I've just…got a lot on my mind, is all."

"I'm all ears, my dear."

Hermione's voice became quieter. "I'm so confused right now."

"By?"

"By Draco."

"Could it be that the Muggle-born has feelings for the Pureblood?"

When there was no response, Malfoy's heartbeat quickened, and his eyes grew wide.

The table made a "tsk"-ing sound. "Well. If this isn't a twist on tradition, I don't know what is."

"He doesn't feel the same way," Hermione whispered, her voice so quiet that Malfoy could barely hear her.

"Oh, but he does," the table interjected. "The Pureblood has come to me on countless occasions seeking counsel regarding you, my dear."

_Counsel?_ Is that what he called it?

On a sudden impulse, Malfoy stepped out of the shadows and faced Hermione, who was wearing a scared expression. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to tease her, he flashed his signature Malfoy smirk and crossed his arms over his chest. "I wouldn't have called it _counsel._ More like _unwanted commentary on my life._"

Hermione didn't say a word, but filled the silence by taking a large sip of hot chocolate. Malfoy sat down across from her, pulling a second mug of cocoa toward himself, his eyes never leaving her stunned face.

"I thought I told you to try and sleep."

"You're not the boss of me," she shot back in a childish tone. But she smiled and added, "I did try. It just didn't work."

"If it's not too forward, may I inquire as to what the Muggle-born and the Pureblood were doing in the Muggle-born's bedroom about two hours ago?"

"We weren't doing anything," Malfoy responded, a little too quickly.

"Draco thought he heard me crying," Hermione offered. "But I was fine."

"Of course _you _were," the table said snidely. "But it's a shame that you can't say the same about your child."

"Shut up," Malfoy growled, but Hermione glared at him.

"How does he know about that?"

"How should I know? I sure as hell didn't tell him!"

"Who else could it have been, Malfoy?"

"The Pureblood did not tell me," the table interjected, surprising both of them. "I found it out on my own."

"Whatever," Hermione said, as if the entire ordeal had had little impact on her. "Is it possible for us to sit here without having to answer to you every few seconds?"

"Just pretend I'm not here, and I won't bother you."

Malfoy snorted, and the corners of Hermione's mouth twitched. She took another sip of her cocoa. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

He shrugged. "I've had a lot on my mind lately."

"Do you think the Horcrux is somewhere in this room?"

"I mean, I've had a lot on my mind _besides_ the Horcrux."

"What else?"

He glanced at her, and their eyes met for an instant, but Hermione broke their gaze.

"I've—I've been thinking about Weasley."

She raised an eyebrow. "Ron? Why?"

"I just—I just can't believe he would ever let you go."

"He wasn't _that_ attached to me, Malfoy."

He shook his head. "Not what I meant. I mean, I can't believe that he didn't see—what I'm seeing right now."

"And just what is it that you're seeing right now?"

He looked at the table and didn't answer.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I remember when I was little, my parents used to take me on hikes in the mountains. There was this older guy who lived in a little cabin with his grandson, and he was about my age. I used to play with him a lot, and one day he told me he was going to marry me when we got older. I was only six, so when I told my mum, she thought it was funny. But my dad sat me on his knee and said, 'You have my blessing—but only if I see that he's going to take care of you, no matter what.' He laughed and set me down, and I've never forgotten what he said. It's like it's seared into my mind." She sighed. "For a while, I thought Ron was 'The One'. But every time I catch myself missing him, I remind myself of what Dad said. I know I don't _need_ someone to take care of me, but I always used to watch my parents and how they interacted. Mum would start doing the dishes, and Dad would be right there to help her. If Mum needed to go out to the store, he would warm up the car for her."

There was silence for a few peaceful moments, and then Hermione continued, "Dad's words have stuck with me since I was a little girl. And when I think about the way Ron treated me, I don't miss him as much."

"It's what you deserve," Malfoy said suddenly, staring into his mug of hot chocolate.

"What? Someone who treats me like dirt?"

"No, Hermione. Someone who would take care of you, like your dad did for your mum."

Her mouth fell open. "Did Draco 'Pureblood' Malfoy just call a Mudblood by her first name?"

"Don't call yourself that," he said quietly, standing up and turning toward the couches in the living room.

They both sat down, side by side in front of the still-burning fire in the grate. There was nothing but silence and the crackling of embers in the fireplace for some time. Hermione was the first to break the silence.

"Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Why'd you come into my bathroom?"

"I told you, I heard you crying."

"And that was bothering you because—?"

"I could hear it from my room. It was hard for me to sleep with the noise." His statement came out harsher than he'd intended, and Hermione fell silent, staring at the floor.

"I—I should probably try to get some sleep," Hermione said, getting to her feet and nodding goodnight. He didn't even look up, but he saw her dismissal out of the corner of his eye and he knew he'd just blown it.

As he walked back into his room, he muttered a Silencing Charm and slammed the door, punching it as hard as he could when it was closed. "What the hell is happening to me?" he whispered to himself, leaning against the door. He began pacing the room furiously, and that's when it hit him. Hermione deserved someone who wasn't tainted by the Dark Arts. She deserved someone who would be able to take care of her. Someone who wasn't him.

**Will Malfoy change his mind, or will he be doomed to watch Hermione leave, never knowing how he really felt about her? And with his new resolutions, will his feelings for her go away? Chapter 13 coming soon! And DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!**


	13. Middle of the Night

When Malfoy came out to breakfast the next morning, Hermione was already seated at the table. Her eyes were glazed over, and her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail as she leaned over her mug of hot chocolate.

"Morning," she greeted him as he sat down.

"Morning, Granger," he muttered in reply, his voice thick with disdain.

She took a second look at him. "Is something the matter?"

"No. Nothing at all."

"Oh, yes. The Muggle-born and I were both born yesterday, so we're going to believe you. _Nothing's wrong at all._"

"Shut the hell up."

"Malfoy, if there's something wrong, you can tell me. Is it something I've done?"

It was completely his fault. He'd led her on—he'd allowed things to go this far. He'd allowed himself to start caring about Hermione, and he'd led her to believe that friendship, or maybe even something more, could exist between them.

He cared about Hermione—it was useless to pretend to himself otherwise. But as he sat watching her pale hands clutch her mug of cocoa, it seemed as though a blanket of darkness was falling over him. He could never be with her. So, he resolved to do the only other thing he could do: Push her away.

"Granger, it's nothing you've done. I just don't want to talk right now."

She nodded, her eyes wide like saucers. "Last night I had a dream," she said quietly, as if trying to arouse his curiosity.

"You had a dream. I'm thrilled."

"It wasn't _just_ a dream, Malfoy," she said tensely. "I think it was Dumbledore. He was trying to tell me something."

"What? What was he trying to tell you, exactly? Why he won't let us out of here? Why we missed the train home? Why he's a total lunatic?"

"Yes, yes, and no."

"Spit it out, then."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Don't talk to me like that. I'll tell you when I'm ready to tell you."

"That's the problem with you."

"The problem with me? Tell me, Malfoy. What's the problem with me?"

"I'll tell you when I'm ready to tell you."

Hermione gaped at him.

"You could stop talking in riddles and just tell me what you know, Granger. It would be in the best interests of all concerned."

"Is that a threat?"

Damn it. Damn _her._ His attempts at pushing her away were only making him angrier. For so long, he'd hated her, hated the idea of being civil towards her. Now that he felt differently about her, he was forcing himself to revert back to his old ways of treating her with contempt.

An idea struck him. A way to get her angry, so angry that she wouldn't speak to him. He hated to do it; he knew it wasn't fair to her, but it was his only option.

"Granger, I've had it up to this point. But you can't tell me Potter's never told you about this Horcrux."

She blinked, completely astonished. "What?"

"You've been expecting me to do all the guesswork. Well, guess what? You know more than you're telling me. What else is there to this puzzle?"

"Excuse me?" She was angry, but not as angry as he needed her to be.

"You've been lying to me. And if you don't want my help, then fine, but don't pretend that you don't know more about the Horcrux. Don't pretend to be stupid, Mudblood."

She was gripping the mug of cocoa so tightly—her entire body was shaking as she clutched the mug, and finally, it shattered all over the table. Blood ran down her hand and arm.

Without thinking, Malfoy jumped to his feet and grabbed a napkin that was lying on the table. He reached out to press it to Hermione's hand, but she shoved him backwards with surprising strength, her face livid with rage.

"Don't you _ever_ talk to me like that again! I'm not stupid, and I haven't been lying to you! And _you're_ the one who showed me that my blood status has mattered to me for too long! I'm _proud_ to be a Muggle-born! I'm _proud_ to be a Mudblood, Draco Malfoy! And nothing you or anyone else says is going to change my mind. Leave me the hell alone!" And she was gone, blood running down her arm onto the carpet as she ran.

Malfoy sat at the table, staring after her. He'd done it. He'd accomplished what he'd resolved to do. But there was no satisfaction. Only the horrible feeling that he would rather have killed himself than seen the look on Hermione's face when he'd called her a Mudblood.

Outside the window of the Hogwarts grounds, everything was dark, gray, and dreary—a mirror image of the atmosphere inside.

Hermione didn't speak to him for the rest of the day, and he wasn't about to approach her, but his heart raced whenever he heard her gasp from the study, where she was searching through books. Again. He wondered if she was doing that to arouse his curiosity, or if she was really putting two and two together. Probably the latter.

Malfoy sat down on the couch with _Recent Revelations of the Darkest Art_, thinking that he might as well see what else he could find out. _Like I'm going to find anything without Granger,_ he thought irritably. With a sigh, he tossed the book onto the armchair. As he listened to the sound of the pages of books turning in Hermione's study, a sudden thought struck him. She was so absorbed in her reading, she probably wouldn't even notice it was gone.

As quietly as he could, he crept up to the door of her study and peered in. Hermione was on the floor, facing the opposite wall, a book in her lap. She rested her cheek on one hand, the other hand moving down the page.

Knowing that it wouldn't be in his best interests for her to find him gazing at her, he reached for the single book lying on the desk. _Cinderella._

The book safely in his hands, he quietly tiptoed away from the study, trying to make as little noise as possible. He would hide the book safely in his bedroom, and Hermione would never know it was gone.

Malfoy read the book late into the afternoon, being careful to retire to his room when Hermione came out to have dinner. And miraculously enough, the table remained quiet throughout Hermione's entire meal. As hard as Malfoy tried to focus on reading the book, all he could think about was the sound of Hermione's fork hitting her plate out in the dining area, and the scrape of her chair on the floor when she finally finished eating.

_It must be nice _not_ having to eat with me,_ he thought bitterly, slamming the book shut and rolling over on the bed. He closed his eyes as exhaustion finally overtook him, and he fell asleep.

Immediately after dinner, Hermione trudged into the bathroom to wash her face, which looked pale and confused—a reflection of how she felt inside.

She was starting to fall in love with Malfoy, and she knew it. And just when she had started to believe that he, in turn, was falling for her, she was wrong. _I was so stupid to even_ consider_ the possibility that he might actually care about me,_ she thought angrily, shoving her toothbrush into her mouth.

Bitter thoughts stung her mind like acid while she fought back tears. For the love of Merlin, why did she have to be so hormonal?

She thought about Viktor Krum, and how his letters had become more frequent. Several months ago, he'd mentioned in a letter that he was going to make a trip to England the month after she finished school. Of course, Hermione had assumed that they were just friends. But maybe, maybe Viktor had something else in mind.

After slipping into her pajamas, she threw herself onto the bed and yanked the covers over herself, angry tears threatening to overwhelm her. _Not only was I stupid to think that Malfoy was starting to care about me, I was stupid enough to let him play with my emotions. _

She rolled over and scrunched her face into the pillow, trying to fall asleep. And just as sleep overtook her…

She watched Malfoy as he walked toward her, closing the distance between them and placing a soft kiss on her lips. His face dissolved as she saw Lucius Malfoy point his wand at her. There was a jet of green light, but then she heard something else.

"Why don't we have some fun with the baby?" Lucius drawled, lifting his wand and pointing it at the red-haired child next to Hermione. The baby's face contorted in pain, and the sounds of a child's screams mixed with Hermione's screams as she tried to shield her child from the Cruciatus Curse—

Hermione woke up with a start. She was sweating, and her blankets were twisted around her legs.

"Just a dream," she whispered. "Just a dream."

She started to lie down again, but her feet hit something at the end of the bed. Squinting in the darkness with only a sliver of light from the living room, she gasped as she recognized the pale form only a few feet away.

Draco Malfoy was sitting at the end of her bed, in the darkness.

**So, what'd ya think of this chapter? Review and let me know! Ya'll can expect a little bit of fluff in the next chapter, but not too much, because I've got a grand ending planned, and too much fluff would ruin my plans. :) And I've got the next chapter all planned out, so it'll be up really really soon!**


	14. The Final Horcrux

Hermione was too startled to say anything. Suddenly aware that her pajamas consisted of tiny shorts and a tight cami, she pulled the bedspread up against her chest, her eyes wide.

Malfoy's grey eyes caught the small sliver of light coming in from the living room, but he didn't move or say a word.

"Malfoy?" was all Hermione could manage. Now she understood what Scabbers felt like when Crookshanks had cornered him on countless occasions.

This time, Malfoy did move. He stood up and moved towards her, sitting down again much closer than he'd been before.

"I wanted to check on you," he answered simply, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Why?"

"I thought I heard you scream."

Hermione looked at the bedspread. Under no circumstances was she going to tell Malfoy what she'd just dreamed about.

"It was probably your imagination, Ferret."

He winced. "Yeah, like I could imagine someone screaming."

"Why would you care, anyway? After the way you treated me this morning, why in the name of Merlin would you care if I screamed?"

"Why would I care?" he repeated, slightly indignantly. "Why would I care?"

"Yes, Malfoy. Why would you care about a Mudblood like me?"

His jaw tightened. "I care, Granger. I care more than you think." And before she could respond, he leaned in, tilted her chin up, and kissed her.

The kiss lasted for what seemed like an eternity. When it finally ended, Malfoy leaned back, his eyes still piercing hers. Hermione was rendered speechless yet again.

"What the bloody hell was that for?"

"You didn't enjoy it?"

She glared at him. "Draco Malfoy, I can see exactly what you're trying to do. And it's not going to work on me."

"And what exactly am I trying to do?" He leaned forward, and Hermione reached for her wand, only to realize that it wasn't on her bedside table. The room was still dark, but her head was pounding and she threw the covers off, leaped out of bed, and stood in front of the door.

"Malfoy, stop it."

Her eyes still locked onto his, she found the doorknob with one hand, and she held the other hand out towards the living room, prepared to summon her wand if he tried to advance again.

"Granger, listen to me."

"Why should I?"

"If I tell you that I'm sorry, will you listen?"

"No!" she hissed. "Because that's what you've been saying all along. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry'. And then, when I thought you'd made some progress, you had the nerve to call me stupid. _And_ a Mudblood."

"It was a mistake."

"What was a mistake, Malfoy?"

"Everything!" he shouted, stamping his foot on the floor. The lamp on the nightstand fell to the floor and shattered, causing Hermione to gasp and lean too far backward. The door slammed shut, and the room was plunged into darkness.

Slowly and quietly, Hermione turned around to open the door. There was a rustling sound, and suddenly she could feel Malfoy's warm breath on the back of her neck. She whirled around to face him.

_Lumos Maxima! _She thought as hard as she could, and the shattered lamp on the floor glowed. Malfoy still hadn't taken his eyes off of her.

"What was a mistake?" she repeated, her eyes penetrating the walls he was trying to put up.

"My life," he answered solemnly. "My life was a mistake."

"Could you be a bit more specific?"

"Everything's a mistake. Everything I've been brought up to believe, everything my parents ever told me. My entire life, up to this point, has been nothing but lies and mistakes."

Hermione swallowed thickly. She'd heard him say things like this before, but this time was different. He sounded more sincere than she ever imagined he could be.

"I thought I could fix things by reverting back to my old ways of treating you like filth. And that, Granger, was one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made."

She suddenly felt small, weak, and vulnerable. She closed her eyes, every cell in her body urging her to believe him and trust him again.

"Hermione," he continued, and her eyes flew open as he addressed her by her first name. "I need to know that you believe me. I want your friendship, and I need your strength, Granger."

Hermione stared at him. He wanted her friendship? Then why in the name of Merlin did he kiss her?

"I—I don't know what to say."

"Do you believe me?"

"I don't know."

The small sphere of light on the floor remained steady, and Hermione became aware of how uncomfortably close Malfoy was. He was mere inches from her face. She closed her eyes again, and she found herself not at all surprised to hear the gentle thud of his shoes on the floor as he closed the distance between them and kissed her again, holding her face in his hands.

Hermione melted into his embrace, ignoring the stinging feeling that falling deeper in love with him was a mistake she would later regret.

Malfoy finally stepped back, a different look in his grey eyes. His fingers lingered on a stray curl that hung by her ear.

Hermione didn't know what to think. Was she making it too easy for him? Could it be that he was only continuing a lifelong trail of lies and deception, making sure that her feelings were thoroughly vested before breaking her heart, just like Ron had?

Ron. Just like Ron had. Hermione's head was pounding. Ron had gotten what he wanted out of her and then left. He had stolen her heart and destroyed it. And there was absolutely no way that she was going to let Malfoy do the same thing.

"This is a mistake," she said quietly, the feeling of Malfoy's fingers caressing her arms making her dizzy. "I can't—"

"Yes, you can," he pressed on. "Forget about the past, Granger. You can start over." But he didn't try to kiss her again.

They stood together in the silent darkness, Malfoy running his hands up and down her arms while she attempted to refocus her mind. Minutes went by as though they were seconds, but finally Hermione spoke.

"I'm not tired."

"Neither am I," Malfoy whispered, his eyes meeting hers for a moment.

The corners of Hermione's mouth twitched. "How about we have some hot chocolate?"

Several minutes later, they were both seated at the table with drinks. Hermione was gazing at a certain spot on the table, oblivious to the fact that Malfoy was watching her carefully, as if he was hypnotized.

His mind had just registered the fact that the girl across from him was wearing pajamas so tight and so thin that her curves and "womanly" attributes were accentuated that much more. He struggled to keep his eyes on her face, but since she wasn't looking at him, his attempts to keep his mind from wandering were becoming more difficult by the second.

She'd worn those same pajamas before, hadn't she? And he'd never had a problem. But he was looking at her in a different way, and the longer they were stuck there in the Room of Requirement, the harder it would be for him to stop himself from—

"I have something to tell you."

Malfoy's eyes jumped back up to her face, where her eyes were wide—a classic sign that she had a secret to tell. "Remember Abigail Watercolor? The name on the piece of paper we found?"

Malfoy nodded, trying not to get lost in the warmth of her gaze.

"She was a friend of Tom Riddle's when he was eleven, when he first came to Hogwarts." She grinned at Malfoy, who nodded again, waiting for her to continue.

"Abigail was…special to him, you might say. He acted differently with his followers than he did with her. As they got older, Riddle fell in love with her, but then…"

"What?" Malfoy persisted impatiently.

"She was murdered."

"By who?"

"By a Muggle in her neighborhood. He, too, had fallen in love with Abigail, but it wasn't the kind of love that Riddle had. Her neighbor's love was selfish, insisting that if he couldn't have her, then no one would. He shot her while she was home alone, and Riddle found her."

Malfoy grimaced. "He _shot _her?"

"Yes, with a gun." Hermione smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. She'd forgotten that Malfoy probably didn't know what a gun was. "Do you know what this means?"

"The girl Riddle was kissing—that was Abigail. And then we saw her on the ground, and he was—" He opened his mouth in realization and horror. "That's why he hates Muggles."

"Exactly," Hermione whispered triumphantly, slapping the table. "And it all started when he killed that Muggle. He had no problem killing anyone after that—Muggle sympathizers, Muggle-borns, even his own father."

Malfoy stared at Hermione, an expression of awe on his face. "Where did you find that?"

"I checked the _Daily Prophet_ issues from when Riddle was a teenager. It was all in there—of course, then it was called just the _Prophet_—"

Her rambling was cut off as Malfoy leaned across the table and kissed her again, nearly knocking over his own mug of hot chocolate.

"My eyes!" screeched the table, causing Malfoy and Hermione to jump apart. "Why must you scar me for the rest of my pitiful life?"

Malfoy grinned and ran his forefinger down Hermione's cheek. "I'm surprised he was able to keep his mouth shut for this long!"

Hermione laughed and stood up, taking her mug and making her way into the living room, where a small fire was burning in the grate. Malfoy sat next to her on the couch and leaned his head back, sighing contentedly.

"Tired yet?" he asked quietly, reluctant for her to leave.

"A bit. I think I'll go to bed in a few minutes."

They sat before the fire, encircled in its warmth for quite a while. During that time, Malfoy nonchalantly swung his arm over the back of the couch and lightly touched Hermione's shoulder, adding to the warmth she felt.

Finally, though, exhaustion overtook her, and she fell asleep in his arms.

_She was walking down a narrow hallway. At the end of the hallway was an enormous metal door, and she could hear voices coming from beyond the door._

_Curiosity got the best of her, and she shoved open the doors. The very first thing she saw was a table—a long, wooden table, covered with all kinds of delicious foods. A young couple sat at the table, one of them at each end, grinning at each other. They didn't even seem to notice Hermione as she approached the table and ran her fingers along the familiar wooden edges…_

_There was a bang from behind her, and she spun around to discover that the scene had changed. A young man was pounding frantically on a dresser drawer that refused to open—just as it had been in the vision they'd had. Hermione stepped closer, eager to see what the man was after, and she panicked when she saw the small pistol in his hand. The man pried the drawer open and removed a small box of bullets. _

Hermione woke up with a start. Daylight streamed in through the window as she registered that she was still in a sitting position, leaning against a sleeping Malfoy, whose head rested on the back of the couch.

She carefully slipped out of his embrace and began pacing the living room, glancing at the clock. It was midmorning already. And she was almost positive that she had just uncovered the last clues.

"Malfoy!" she hissed after a moment of agonizing over whether or not to wake him up.

"What?" he asked groggily, opening one eye. "Blaise, go down to breakfast without me."

Hermione stifled a laugh. "It's not Blaise."

Malfoy rubbed his eyes and looked around, his eyes finally coming to rest on Hermione. "What did you have to wake me up for? You kept me up half the night."

"I believe _you're_ the one who woke me up in the first place," she corrected, narrowing her eyes. "Never mind, then. I just thought you'd like to know that I know what the last Horcrux is."

He sat up straighter. "Well? What is it?"

"Remember the vision we had?"

"Yeah. Let's see…there was the man banging on the dresser, Riddle kissing Abigail, then Riddle standing over Abigail's body."

"Right. And then there was Parvati fighting off a Death Eater."

Malfoy blinked. "Can we skip to the part where you tell me what the last bloody Horcrux is?"

"Absolutely not. We're going to do this the right way." She resumed pacing. "The man banging on the dresser was Abigail's neighbor, the one who was in love with her. He was holding a gun in his hand, and when he finally got the dresser open, he pulled out a box of bullets."

"I thought you said he was in the Room of Requirement? If he was a Muggle, then that wouldn't be possible."

"I was wrong. It looked just like this room, but it was slightly different."

"And how do you know this?"

"I saw it in a dream last night."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but he didn't question her. "Alright. What else?"

"We already know what happened from there. Riddle was in love with Abigail as well, and after the Muggle killed her, Riddle killed him. But there was something else. In the dream last night, I saw the very last meal that Abigail and Riddle shared before she was murdered."

"So?"

Hermione ran into the dining area and pointed to the table. "This was it. This was the table where they had their last meal together."

Malfoy sprang up from the couch and advanced toward the table, his eyes taking in every square inch of it. "So, this is the last Horcrux?"

"Yes."

"And we have to destroy it? We have to destroy this table?"

"Yes."

**A/N: They've figured out what the Horcrux is—but how exactly does Voldemort's magic work? What will Draco and Hermione have to do in order for the table to be destroyed? And now that they've solved the mystery, will they be let out of the Room? Find out in the next chapter! REMEMBER TO REVIEW!**


	15. The Table's Revelation

Malfoy stood still, his eyes jumping from Hermione to the table and back again. "So, what do we do?"

"Where's my wand?"

"_Our_ wands are in your study. _Together._ Remember?"

Hermione nodded and followed Malfoy into the room, where he picked up the joint-wand from the desk and began turning it over in his hands. "What exactly are we supposed to do with it?"

"Maybe the Killing Curse?" Hermione suggested, wishing she had a definite answer. "Or maybe the answer's in the encyclopedia we found."

In Malfoy's study this time, they flipped through the index of the book.

"_Destroying a Horcrux_," Hermione read, pointing to a page number.

"Hasn't Dumbledore destroyed them before? Did he ever say anything about-"

"Don't you think I would've told you if I knew anything else?" Hermione snapped, angry that they were so close to destroying the last Horcrux, and yet so far. "He's used the Sword of Gryffindor and a Basilisk fang. Since we don't have either one, I'd say we can move on." She grabbed the book from him, tore through it to the corresponding page, and began to read aloud.

"_Using ordinary means to destroy a Horcrux's encasing will do nothing to harm the piece of soul embedded within. One must use an irreversible kind of magic, such as Fiendfyre or Basilisk venom. _

"Fiendfyre?" Malfoy interrupted. "What kind of idiot would be thick enough to use that?"

Hermione continued, "_A Horcrux protected by even more powerful magic will, naturally, require a more powerful magic to destroy it._"

"Like what?"

Hermione slowly turned to face him. "Are you going to let me finish?"

He rolled his eyes but didn't speak again, so she continued reading.

"_A Horcrux protected by the blood sacrifice will require—_no, that's not it…here it is." She read silently, her eyes scanning the page, a small part of her knowing and enjoying the fact that the lack of information was driving Malfoy mad. Finally, she looked up. "It doesn't say."

"No, there must be something in there," Malfoy insisted, grabbing the book from her. He, too, scanned the page, but he raised an eyebrow when he had finished. "Well, we're screwed."

"Our wands have joined into one. Maybe that'll be enough."

Malfoy tossed the book onto the desk and followed Hermione into the living area, where the table was ready with more sarcastic remarks.

"I say, you two have been spending more and more time together. Could there be wedding bells in the future?" The table made a kissing noise, to which Hermione rolled her eyes and Malfoy growled menacingly.

"I think I'm going to enjoy this," he said, rubbing his hands together. Hermione handed him the wand, and he pointed it at the table, anger and rage flashing in his eyes. All the times that the table had insulted them or made fun of them…it was time for revenge. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

Nothing happened.

"Stop it!" shouted the table, laughing uncontrollably. "I'm going to pee!"

"Maybe I have to do it," Hermione offered, taking the wand from a fuming Malfoy. She concentrated, raised the wand, and repeated the Killing Curse. And again, nothing happened.

"If that bloody book would just give us some answers," Malfoy commented, but Hermione was turning the wand over and over in her hands.

"Our wands joined into one," she said aloud, more to herself than to Malfoy.

"I believe we've established that."

"I'm going to point the wand at the table."

"Good."

"And I want you to take my hand, so we're both touching the wand."

"Alright."

She turned around with her back to Malfoy and took a deep breath, slowly raising the wand to the table.

"Go ahead! Kill me for the greater good!" the table shrieked dramatically. "Don't hesitate!"

"I wasn't hesitating," Hermione snapped, her hand trembling.

"Come on, at least show a little respect," the table shot back, and Hermione's eyes narrowed.

Malfoy wrapped his hand around hers, steadying the wand. And Hermione gasped as she felt him slip his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. "Ready?" he asked quietly, sending chills down her back.

When she didn't answer right away, the table scoffed. "You two are officially together now, eh? I was only joking about the wedding bells. But to be frank, I'm shocked that the Muggle-born wants to have anything to do with the Pureblood after what he did."

There was a pause, and Hermione made the worst mistake she could have made: She asked, "What are you talking about?"

"You haven't figured it out? _Honestly?_ My dear girl, you have not yet discovered the secret?"

"I'm getting tired of secrets," Hermione hissed, clenching her teeth. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The Pureblood is responsible for the death of your child."

Hermione's blood ran cold. "How can you say such a thing?"

"Because, my dear, I'm afraid it's the truth. When the Pureblood performed the Cruciatus Curse on you several nights ago, he damaged the embryo beyond repair. He murdered your child."

Hermione felt her legs grow weak, but Malfoy tightened his grip on her. He had been hoping and praying that his curse was not the cause of Hermione's miscarriage, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized how likely it was.

He didn't say a word; he couldn't refute the table's claim. Hermione was trembling, but she still wouldn't say it. She wouldn't say those two words that would shut the table up forever.

"All this time, the Pureblood has been hoping that you wouldn't find out. But the Cruciatus Curse is among the leading causes of miscarriages among pregnant witches. And he's been trying to make up for it by getting close to you. Making sure that you didn't find out about it."

"That's a lie," Malfoy snarled, rage surging through him.

"Is it? Is it a lie?"

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

The jet of green light surrounded the table, a piercing scream shot through the room, and the joint wand wrenched itself from Hermione's grip, ripping itself into two separate wands once again.

Hermione's knees buckled; Malfoy leaned down to catch her arm, but she lashed out, effectively punching him in the face. "I can't believe you!" she screamed, angry tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Hermione—"

She jumped to her feet and spun around to face him, her wand inches from his neck. She looked positively murderous; the expression hurt Malfoy more than any words could have. Her eyes reflected pain, horror, and the lowest form of despair. She whirled around and ran into her room, slamming the door and locking it after her. And Malfoy picked up his own wand, struggling against tears as he went to his room.

Malfoy's thoughts for the next day and a half were constantly on Hermione—he barely spared a moment to think about what they were going to do now that they had accomplished their mission. They'd done what Dumbledore had wanted them to do.

They'd been in the room for over a week. And in that short span of time, Draco Malfoy had fallen in love with Hermione Granger. His attempts to get close to her were not born out of the hope that she wouldn't link his curse to her baby's death. They were real. But it occurred to him that although he had kissed her and _shown_ his feelings, he'd never actually told her. And now it looked like it was too late.

It was midafternoon, exactly two days after the table had been destroyed. Neither of them had spoken a word to the other since then.

And it occurred to Malfoy that he had also not showered in three days.

He glanced at Hermione's bedroom door before deciding that taking fifteen minutes to shower most likely _wouldn't_ ruin his chances of working things out with her any more than they were already ruined.

Meanwhile, Hermione was tearing apart her bedroom, looking for the Cinderella book. Hadn't she left it on her nightstand? _No,_ she thought finally. _It's in the study!_

As quietly as she could, she opened her door, stuck her head out into the living room, and listened. All she could hear was the sound of the shower running.

_Good. The pig has finally decided to clean himself up._

Her eyes lit up like they always did when they fell on mountains of books. But she had a specific one in mind—and a quick glance told her that _Cinderella_ wasn't where she had left it.

Once again, she stopped and listened to the almost-silent atmosphere. She had an idea about where that book might be…

Following a sudden hunch, Hermione stood up and quietly approached Malfoy's door. She heard him drop the shampoo bottle in the shower and mutter a string of swear words, followed by a roar of, "_Why in the name of Merlin's beard can't this bathroom have magical soap dispensers like every other bathroom in the bloody castle?_"

She stifled a laugh and tiptoed into his bedroom, glancing around and wondering exactly how much time she had before he would come out of the bathroom. She checked under the bed, in the chest of drawers, on the night table. _Maybe the book's buried in that huge pile of encyclopedias, back in my study. Or in the living room__,_ she thought. She checked under the comforter and under the sheets on his bed. And when she pulled back the pillow, _Cinderella_ was lying there.

Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth. Malfoy was reading Cinderella? Why? And why was he trying to hide it? Hadn't he already taken a look through it?

The shower was shut off; Hermione quickly grabbed the book and ran out of the room, across the living room and into her own bedroom. She slammed the door behind her and muttered a charm to lock it.

Positioning herself on her stomach facing the headboard, Hermione began to leaf through the book that she'd read a million times when she was a child. She reread her favorite parts and smiled at the wonderful ending she loved so much. As she was about to close the book, the last few pages glowed silver. What in the name of Merlin's beard?

New words had been written there. The ending she'd written had been erased, and something else had been written in its place. It wasn't another ending, but it was something else…paragraphs containing questions…

_What if the Prince wasn't really who Cinderella thought he was? What if he never really loved her? What if there was someone else who had given his heart to Cinderella? What if this "someone else" loved Cinderella so much that he was willing to let her go? What if Cinderella felt the same way? What if Cinderella was a completely different story?_

Hermione was shocked. Did Draco Malfoy really care that much about a fairy tale to fantasize about a different outcome to the story?

_What if, one night, before they were married, the Prince abused Cinderella? What if that "someone else" would do anything to protect her from the Prince? What if he did? What if he had his chance to prove to Cinderella that he really did love her? What if Cinderella had a different ending?_

Hermione's heart stopped. This sounded so familiar. Too familiar. And this was no fairytale.

She picked up the book and brought it back into the living room, feeling her legs grow weak. She was dreaming—that was the only explanation.

For the first time in days, Hermione heard the sound of voices outside the Room of Requirement. There were at least three people talking, and they sounded like harsh, rough voices.

After a moment of silence, the entire wall near the door exploded. Hermione dove behind the couch as pieces of the wall fell on top of her, causing her to cry out in pain.

When the dust cleared, Hermione cautiously got to her feet, looking around at the destroyed remains of the room. But her heart stopped once again as she saw who the intruders were.

"What have we here?" Fenrir Greyback sneered, baring his yellow teeth at Hermione.

**A/N: I know, I'm evil for ending the chapter like this, but I wanted to see what kind of reviews I get AND make sure I have plenty of suspense woven in amongst the action and romance. The next chapter is almost finished, so you won't have to wait **_**too **_**long. :)**


	16. The Final Battle

"It's the Mudblood," whispered Bellatrix Lestrange, slowly stepping over pieces of the door. "The filthy Mudblood. She's a friend of Potter's."

Lucius Malfoy stepped to the front of the group. "Miss Granger," he acknowledged, smirking and raising his wand to her eye level. "How's dear Potter these days?"

"I wouldn't know," Hermione answered snidely, slowly moving her hand around to her back pocket.

The Death Eaters laughed. "My dear Miss Granger, you won't be needing your wand." And it flew out of Hermione's back pocket into Lucius Malfoy's outstretched hand. He continued, "The Dark Lord has given us a task."

"What task would that be?"

"To collect Potter, of course. And to kill anyone else." He smirked. "Poor Thorfinn Rowle, mistaking that Patil girl for you."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "He thought Parvati was me? We look nothing alike!"

"I must say, she's much more attractive than you. _And_ her blood isn't tainted." His face softened sickeningly. "But perhaps Fenrir will be able to tell us exactly how attractive you are when you're not wearing any clothing."

Hermione fought the urge to retch. "Harry went home on the Hogwarts Express on Monday," she spat, glaring at the three of them.

"Perhaps he did," Lucius drawled. "And we have friends taking care of him. But _our_ job is to kill you and anyone else who's in line with Potter."

Hermione felt her blood run cold. There was no escape, no way for her to get out of this.

Bellatrix was panting behind Lucius. "Can I do it?"

"Control yourself, Bellatrix, or we'll send you back to the Dark Lord. But it so happens that he ordered that you have the…honor of disposing of this filthy animal."

Bellatrix stepped forward, bloodlust flashing in her eyes. "_Avada_—"

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Draco Malfoy had thrown himself in front of Hermione and directed his Killing Curse at Bellatrix, who dropped to the floor.

"Draco!"

"Hello, Father," the boy snarled, his grip on his wand tightening.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Neither of you are going to lay a finger on Hermione!" he shouted, training his wand alternately on his father and Fenrir Greyback.

"By all means," Lucius said, drawing back his cloak and tucking his wand inside. "You may finish off the Mudblood."

Hermione gripped the edge of the couch, but Draco didn't move his arm. "I'm not going to hurt her, either," he whispered menacingly, glaring at his father. "I love her."

Lucius's face drained of color, his eyes never leaving his son's face. "You what?"

"Both of you, leave now. I've already killed Aunt Bellatrix, and I have no problem finishing off the two of you if it means keeping Hermione safe."

"You wouldn't dare kill your own father," Lucius tried again, clearly attempting to bring the conversation back to his level of understanding.

"I wouldn't? _Try me._"

Lucius drew his wand a second time and bared his teeth. "You have no idea what you're doing, Draco."

"I think I do."

Hermione dropped to her knees behind the couch, and when Draco turned his head to see what was wrong with her, Lucius stepped sideways so that he could see Hermione behind the couch. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

Draco dropped down on top of Hermione, but the curse sailed over their heads and hit the opposite wall.

"You fool!" Lucius shouted, raising his wand again.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Lucius dodged the curse and missed death by an inch. His face was contorted with rage, but he thought better of his plan to pursue Hermione and stepped towards the door. "This is the end, Draco. The Dark Lord will not forgive you for this."

Neither Draco's arm nor his gaze wavered. There would be no turning back—and he was alright with that.

"You're next if you don't get the hell out of here, Greyback," Malfoy told him, but the werewolf had other plans.

"The Dark Lord promised me I'd get her after they were done killin' her!" he snarled.

"Try and get to her," Draco responded. "You won't get within ten feet of her."

Greyback stood at the entrance to the Room of Requirement, dumbfounded. The sound of breaking glass echoed throughout the corridors beyond, and Draco felt relief rush through his body as the figures of Harry, Ron, and many other students rushed past the door. Screams sounded and spells flew past the doorway, and Draco knew that this was it—the final battle.

Greyback turned and ran out the door, but a jet of green light hit him before he'd left the doorway, and he keeled over. Blaise Zabini appeared at the end of the adjacent corridor, saluted Draco, and ran to help the others.

The battle raged around them, but Draco's thoughts were on the girl at his feet. "Hermione?"

She slowly stood up, her face white, her eyes wide. "Did you mean what you said?"

He smiled—not a Malfoy smirk, but a genuine smile. "Every word." And before she could protest, he leaned in to kiss her—

"_Stupefy!_" Draco was thrown across the room, and Ron Weasley ran to Hermione's side, throwing his arms around her. "Hermione, are you alright?"

She wriggled free of his grasp. "I am perfectly fine, Ronald."

"That gutless git, it looked like he was trying to snog you!"

"He saved me."

Ron's mouth fell open. "What?"

"Draco killed Bellatrix Lestrange to save me. Do you really think he would be snogging me if I didn't want him to?"

"But—"

"You lost your right to talk to me about who I'm snogging when you dumped me for that cow, Lavender Brown. Everything's over between you and me. Our friendship, our relationship, any hope for either in the future, is gone, Ronald Weasley. Now get away from me."

"Hermione—"

"She told you to get away." Draco stood up, brushed himself off, and moved to stand next to Hermione.

Ron was tall, but Draco was at least an inch or two taller. Ron's fists clenched as if he was ready for a fight, but he turned on his heel and ran out through the demolished wall, leaving Hermione and Draco alone once again.

"We need to help them," Hermione said, jumping over the couch to get her wand.

The two ran towards the doorway, stumbling over bits of rubble as they drew their wands and began firing curses down the corridor.

Hermione heard a stifled shriek behind her, and she turned to see a Death Eater with his fingers around Luna Lovegood's neck.

"_Stupefy!"_

The Death Eater was thrown backwards, and Luna smiled serenely. "Thank you, Hermione. I'm glad to see that you're alright. Was it Snaggle-toothed Hornswallows?"

Hermione stared at Luna. "What?"

"Did they capture you? Is that why you were gone? I've heard the population is very heavy in England this year."

"Duck!" Someone shouted, and Hermione dropped to the ground as a jet of green light shot over her head. Luna jumped to her feet and shot a return spell in the direction of the attack.

Curses flew in all directions, hitting the walls and ceilings as Hermione and Luna ran towards the Great Hall. Bodies of Death Eaters and Hogwarts students were already strewn about the corridors, and Hermione tried not to look at the lifeless faces of her classmates on the floor, but she couldn't help it. She needed to see who had given their lives to stop Voldemort.

Zacharias Smith, Seamus Finnigan, and Michael Corner were lying motionless on the floor just outside Dumbledore's office. Hermione began to pray, as hard as she could, that Harry and the others were alright. And…and that nothing had happened to Draco. She couldn't see him anywhere; she'd lost sight of him when she'd heard Luna cry out for help. But Draco had sacrificed so much, more than most of the other students. And if something happened to him—

She wouldn't allow herself to even entertain that thought. She leaped over fallen bodies, scanning the halls for any sign of her friends. The Great Hall was less than two corridors away...she was almost there.

The noise got louder as Hermione and Luna raced into the Great Hall, where they both stopped short. Voldemort himself was in the middle of the room, teeth bared, wand pointed directly at Harry. Everyone else had ceased fighting; they were all staring at the two wizards in the middle of the Hall, wands pointed at each other.

"It's finished, Riddle," Harry said confidently, a smile playing on his lips at the look of outrage on Voldemort's face.

"You dare to address me by the name of my filthy Muggle father?"

"Yes, I dare. I've got a question for you—does the name Abigail Watercolor ring a bell?"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, but he didn't show any other signs that he recognized the name.

"Abigail Watercolor. She was the one person you ever loved, and then you lost her to a horrible death. A Muggle killed her because you loved her. And you've blamed yourself all this time."

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has fallen!" Cho Chang shouted, running down the corridors and sharing the news with anyone who may not have heard. Ministry officials were arresting Death Eaters and moving bodies away from the open. Hermione's thoughts were on one thing: finding Draco Malfoy.

She heard many shouts of congratulations as she ran past fellow Hogwarts students, but she didn't respond to any of them. Where was Draco?

"Sorry—" she muttered as she crashed into someone, but whoever it was took hold of her arms in a firm grip. She looked up.

"Draco!" And before she could utter another word, he pressed his lips to hers, wrapping her in a tight embrace.

When they stepped apart several minutes later, Harry and several other students were standing in the hallway, gaping at them. Lavendar Brown squealed, Blaise Zabini wolf-whistled, and Harry shook his head in an "I-can't-believe-it-but-if-you-must" kind of way.

Later that night, when the Ministry of Magic had taken over and the castle was being cleared of debris, Harry insisted that Hermione take a breather and go outside for some fresh air. As she descended the front steps, Draco Malfoy fell into step beside her and slipped his hand into hers. "Hey," he said quietly.

Hermione looked at the ground as they walked.

"What is it?"

"I just…don't feel like celebrating. Voldemort's gone, but so are so many of my friends and schoolmates. And…members of the Order of the Phoenix." Her voice broke, and Draco wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.

"Hermione?"

She stepped back and raised her sleeve to wipe away her tears, but Draco beat her to it. He closed the distance between them and gently kissed her again, his hands caressing her cheeks.

"I meant everything I said back in the Room," he whispered a moment later. "I'm in love with you. And I'm so sorry for everything that I've put you through." He held her close, and in the pale moonlight, their silhouettes appeared as one.

**A/N: I didn't include all the dialogue between Voldemort and Harry before Harry finally killed Voldemort because from where I left off, it was basically the same as in the Deathly Hallows book, if that makes sense. And I've got one more chapter coming, and then there'll be an epilogue and finally a sequel sometime after I've completed my other unfinished stories. :D REVIEW!**


	17. Epilogue

**A/N: So, I decided just to skip to the epilogue, since there isn't much I could do with another chapter. But don't worry, there **_**is**_** a sequel coming, I just want to finish my other unfinished stories before I start another one. But I'll finish the others ASAP and get started on the sequel! Stay tuned! And without any further ado, here's the epilogue…**

Two months later…

Summer vacation was no longer a symbol of freedom and rest for the students of Hogwarts. It was a time to reflect on what had occurred at the school at the end of the school year. Students and professors had given their lives to defeat Voldemort, and for many people, going back to Hogwarts would be among the hardest things they had ever done.

Seamus, Michael, and Zacharias had been only a few of the many students who had died. When most of the rubble had been cleared, Ministry officials discovered the bodies of Blaise Zabini and Lavender Brown, along with Fred Weasley and Colin Creevey.

There was no one at the school, since it was summer vacation; no one except for Hermione Granger, who walked slowly down the corridors one last time. Everything was empty; new ghosts roamed the halls, but Hermione wasn't paying attention; she was lost in her own thoughts.

_"Why? Why her?" Ron had sobbed, his face in his hands. "Why Lavender? And why Fred?"_

_ Harry shook his head. "I don't know," was all he could say. The three of them sat in Ron's living room several weeks after the battle. _

_ "Why couldn't it have been Malfoy instead?"_

_ Hermione felt rage surge through her. "How _dare_ you!" she shouted, dropping her books all over the floor. "Why couldn't it have been Malfoy? How dare you even _think_ such a thing?"_

_ Harry threw Ron a dark look. "He didn't mean it, Hermione. He's still in shock."_

_ "That's no excuse!" She gathered up her books and walked out the front door, Disapparating when she was far enough away. _

Hermione leaned against the repaired gargoyle in front of the headmaster's office. Granted, Ron had enlisted Harry's help to use the telephone to call Hermione and apologize later that same day. But the fact remained that Ron didn't have Lavender, and he'd lost Hermione to Malfoy. He would always be bitter because of that.

At that moment, her cell phone rang, Flipping it out and expecting to see a text from Ron, she was pleasantly surprised to see that it was Draco.

_Where r u?_

She grinned. _At the castle._

When there wasn't a reply, she tucked her phone into the pocket of her jeans and let her mind wander again. There was so much that she never got to tell her fellow schoolmates. She'd never thanked Blaise for ending Fenrir Greyback's life. Thanks to him, Greyback would never threaten her again.

A pair of hands came to rest on her shoulders, and she turned her head to see who it was. As she turned, Draco Malfoy leaned in the rest of the way and kissed her.

"How did you get here so fast?" she asked once he'd stepped back.

"I was already here. I guess we both had the same idea." He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she leaned against him, tears coming to her eyes as her mind went back to the demolished corridors and dead students.

"I need to go," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"Why?"

"It's—it's just too painful to be here."

"I know," Malfoy whispered back. "But I have to show you something." He took her by the hand and led her up to the third floor corridor, where the Room of Requirement was. The patch of wall that had been destroyed by dark magic could not be repaired, but the room beyond had been restored to its previous state.

"Why are we here?"

"I'll tell you in a minute," he answered, leading her into the Room. The furnishings and decorations were exactly the same; Hermione let go of Draco's hand and ran her fingers along the edge of the wooden table.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I…I miss hearing this thing talk," she confessed. "It was annoying, but it never failed to make us laugh."

Draco nodded. "I was absolutely thrilled when I found out we could smack it without getting shocked."

"And then there came a point where we could eat separately without getting shocked. I think _that_ was my favorite part." She laughed. "I keep remembering the way the table said, "_Oh, the Pureblood likes the Muggle-born's curves. How adorable._"

"And it was telling the truth," Draco whispered in her ear. "I lied."

Chills ran down Hermione's spine at his warm breath on the back of her neck. "Why did you want to show me this?"

"Because this is where everything began," he answered simply. He stepped forward and took her hands in his. "The past two months that I've spent with you have been amazing—the best two months of my life."

Hermione smiled. "That's because for the first time in your life, you don't have to worry about Voldemort or his followers. You're free."

He grinned back. "Hermione, I want you to know that I love you more than anything else in this world. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Hermione's eyes widened, and as he reached into his robes, she put one hand over her mouth in shock. He drew out a small black box, and knelt before her.

"Hermione Granger, will you marry me?"

She stared at him for several seconds; finally, she nodded slowly. "Yes! A thousand times yes!"

He grinned and stood up, wrapping his arms around her. Then he took her hand and slipped a beautiful diamond ring onto her finger.

There was a "Pfft" sound, and then a voice said, "Well, it's about time!"

Hermione's eyes widened. It couldn't be—could it?

The table let out a stifled sob. "So, am I invited to the wedding?"

"Absolutely—"

"Not!" Draco interjected, giving Hermione a "you're insane" look.

"And why not?" Hermione questioned, placing her hands on her hips and raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Drakey, why not?"

Draco reached over and smacked the table. "If you call me that one more time, you'll lose any chance you've got," he snarled, but Hermione was laughing.

"We've been in here for two minutes and you're already fighting?" she managed to ask, holding her stomach. "And I think we should invite it to the wedding." Draco saw a mischievous glint in her eye. "_If_ it agrees to wear a dress."

His face split into a grin. "Perfect."

"No. Under NO circumstances will I be wearing a dress to your wedding. Please, break my legs instead!"

Draco pulled Hermione into his arms and kissed the top of her head. "Don't tempt us," he warned, grinning into Hermione's hair.

1 year later…

Today marked exactly two months since their wedding. Draco was working at the Ministry, and Hermione sat on the couch in their living room, flipping through a photo album she'd started. Pictures of their wedding day covered the pages, bringing back memories that she was sure would make her forget about the stomachache she was dealing with. The stomachache that had kept her home from work today.

Much to the astonishment of Kingsley Shacklebolt and other Ministry officials, the table _was_ invited to their wedding, and, as Hermione had requested, it was dressed in white ribbons and bows, almost as though it was wearing a dress. In the picture, Hagrid had mistaken the well-dressed table for a special chair just for him. When he'd attempted to sit on it, he had nearly died of a heart attack when the table began shouting profanities at no one in particular.

Hermione stifled a laugh and turned the page, but suddenly she jumped up. Nausea had swept over her and she raced into the bathroom, where she threw up almost as soon as she was positioned over the toilet. On a hunch, she wiped her mouth with a tissue and reached under the bathroom sink, taking out a rectangular box. A pregnancy test.

She looked at the result several minutes later. This time, she wasn't horrified. She wasn't scared. She didn't feel like she would pass out. She was absolutely thrilled; she had to stop herself from running to the fireplace to Floo to the Ministry and tell Draco the news.

That evening, when Draco came home from work, she was at the door to greet him. "How was your day?" she asked, softly kissing him.

"Awful," he answered, wrapping his arms around her. When she looked at him questioningly, he continued, "You weren't there. I didn't get to have lunch with you, I didn't get to walk by your office and spend some time with you during my break, and I didn't get to walk home with you. How could my day be anything less than awful?" He leaned in and kissed her again. "I know we do those things every day, but they never get old for me. I wake up every morning looking forward to those times we have."

She smiled. "We may have to put those on hold in the near future." He looked confused, and she led him over to the couch. "I've been looking at our wedding pictures."

He sat down, still looking puzzled. "What does this have to do with our time together at work?"

She flipped to the middle, where there was a picture of Cho Chang and Ron holding hands. Cho Chang was laughing, one hand pressed over her pregnant belly.

"Ron and Cho?"

"Yes…" she answered vaguely, wondering if he was going to catch on.

"What about them?"

Hermione's face was positively radiant. She took Draco's hand and pressed it to her stomach. He stared at her for a moment, then looked back at her stomach.

"You—you mean—?"

"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed, and she leaned into Draco's embrace once again.

**A/N: And that's the end! I've got a sequel planned, but first I want to finish my other stories. But who knows? I might decide that I can't wait for ya'll to see what the sequel's going to entail, and I'll post the first few chapters within a couple of weeks instead. But only if you review and tell me what you think! I know a lot of people said they thought the last chapter moved fast, and I was trying to take it slower with this chapter, and I wanna know if I succeeded. Tell me! :D Love ya'll!**


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